


You Were Never Alone

by nataliving



Series: We Hid Hope In Our Sleeves [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Childhood Sweetheart AU, F/F, F/M, Gen, Modern AU, Or what I like to call: Parallel Lines AU, Rock Band AU, The greatest brotp of all time: Bellexa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nataliving/pseuds/nataliving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is three years post-Clarke and would like to think she's better for it--getting ready to start Warped Tour and hoping to carve out a life for herself with her bandmates. But when Jake Griffin is murdered for the cash in his wallet, suddenly Lexa finds herself right back where she started...at least where Clarke is concerned.</p><p>Or when a Childhood Sweethearts AU meets a Rock Band AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Curse of Perfect Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Funeral

Lexa did not want come back. Let that be known. She did not want to come back to her hometown—let alone under such…

Completely unfair and horrible circumstances. 

But of course she is here. It is her duty. And…even through everything, he was just as much her family as Gustus is. However, Gustus is still alive and well to meet her outside of the terminal when she lands back in Norfolk, Virginia. He’s still alive and able to wrap Lexa up in his strong arms and bite back tears because he is strong and he thinks that means he shouldn’t cry in front of his niece. 

This kind of stuff wasn’t supposed to happen. That was the deal she made. Or the deal that had been made at the beginning of all of this when Lexa and Clarke were made to walk this earth. Lexa would never have the success that Clarke would have. Lexa would never have Clarke. And that was fine as long as Clarke remained happy. Because for Lexa, that was the most important thing. She could live without Clarke as long as Clarke was happy without her. 

But then Jake Griffin was murdered for the cash in his wallet. 

And Lexa found herself wishing that she could go back to the start and make sure that cosmic deal was never made because obviously there was some fine print neither of them had read. 

After the long embrace, Gustus holds Lexa out in front of him, looking her right in the eye. “Hi, Lexa.” 

He sniffs deliberately, trying to keep it together. Lexa remembers the time Jake and Gustus drove the seven hours to New York so she and Clarke could see Taylor Swift. Jake and Gustus sang along to Fearless just as loud as she and Clarke did. Lexa feels tears starting to gather in her eyes.

“Hi, Gustus,” she replies quietly with a shaky laugh. 

Bellamy sidles up beside her, saving her from having to say anything else. He holds out his hand to Gustus, exchanging a firm shake. “Bellamy, it’s good to see you.” 

He nods. “If only it were under better circumstances.” He shoulders Lexa’s duffle as Lincoln and Anya approach with their bags. They exchange pleasantries, but no one is very happy to be where they are right now. 

Gustus turns to lead them to the car, but Lexa hesitates. Bellamy hangs back, leaning down to be eye level with her. “This sucks. But this isn’t about her. It’s about Jake.” 

Lexa meets his gaze. “It’s always about her, Bell.” 

Bellamy sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah, I know. We’ve been singing songs about her for years.” 

They both share an uneasy laugh. It’s the truth.

He takes her hand in his and squeezes. “Well, suck it up, Commander. We have to do what’s right.” 

Lexa nods, “Alright, Blake. Lead the way.” 

Bellamy’s grip loosens, but Lexa doesn’t let go, and they walk hand in hand behind the others—bracing themselves for what is surely to come. 

* 

Later that night, Anya and Lexa are smashed into Lexa’s old twin bed in her childhood bedroom. Lexa immediately rolls to face the wall and squeezes her eyes shut, hoping sleep would take hold as quickly as it always seems to in movies. 

But Anya stays on her back, eyes wide, taking in all of Lexa’s room. It’s a little childish. Gustus had changed nothing since she moved out, and it’s obvious that Lexa isn’t a fan of major overhauls. The walls are plastered with band posters: Taylor Swift, Paramore, Relient K, Hellogoodbye. A bunch of stuff Anya couldn’t be sure Lexa even listened to anymore. Old guitars, since replaced with higher quality instruments, sit collecting dust in one corner. A desk is covered with trinkets and notebooks apparently deemed too important to throw out, but not important enough to take with her anywhere. 

But the one thing that stands out to Anya about the room is Clarke. Pictures of Clarke and Lexa at the beach. Pictures of them at school. Pictures of them with Lincoln and Octavia. Pictures of them in formal wear, paired off beside Lincoln and Octavia and Finn and Raven. It’s all meant to look a certain way, to give a certain impression. 

The only picture to break that illusion is one of the two of them at Prom: Clarke is kissing Lexa’s cheek, but Bellamy’s arm is firmly around Clarke’s waist and his tie matches her dress. “She’s everywhere.” 

“Anya, go to sleep.” 

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Anya. Please. Not now.” 

“How did you ever get any sleep in here?” 

“Force of will. Now, stop. We have to be up early for the…” Lexa stumbles. Jake’s service is tomorrow morning. “We have to be up early.” 

Anya reaches up to grip Lexa’s arm. 

“Are you nervous?” 

It takes a few seconds, but Lexa answers, “Yes.” 

“More than you miss Jake?” 

“No.” 

Anya slides her hand how to lace her fingers with Lexa’s. 

“Stay strong. You know we’ve got you.” 

Lexa rolls onto her back. She is quiet for a moment before, “I’m worried for Clarke. Jake was everything to her.” 

Anya lifts their joined hands, and both of them focus on that instead of each other. 

“Clarke has Raven and Octavia looking out for her. She’ll be fine. You’ve got to focus on yourself.” 

“I know. It’s just—“ 

“Hard,” Anya finishes, “But it’s what you have to do,” she lets go of Lexa’s hand and rolls to face away from her with a yawn. “Go to sleep. I doubt Jake would want you yawning at his funeral.” 

It’s in incredibly poor taste, but Lexa laughs. Because it’s exactly the kind of thing Jake would have said. 

“Thanks, Anya,” Lexa whispers after rolling to face the wall. 

“What are friends for?” she whispers back. 

Finally, Lexa can sleep. 

*

The service is nice.

But Lexa supposes that the majority of funeral services are nice. 

Some sort of clergyman says words about how Jake was loved and will continue to be loved, how he was a good man and now carries on in the memories of his loved ones. Or something like that. Lexa’s focus is almost entirely on the slide show playing behind him off to the side. Pictures of Jake happy and smiling and alive with Abby and Clarke flash on the screen. Pictures of Jake and Gustus too. And far too often for Lexa’s liking, she finds her own smiling face staring back at her from the screen. 

 _What’s wrong with that, kiddo?_ She can practically hear Jake’s voice in her head. _We are family too. Even now._

Lexa wants to scream back, “Even if I stopped talking to Clarke? Even if I stopped coming by for Sunday dinners? Even if I stopped responding to your joke texts?” 

She knows what Jake would say. _Yeah, kid. No matter what._

So she starts to cry instead, and Lincoln puts a strong arm around her, and he holds her to him tight.

Then there’s movement in the front pew, and Lexa finally sees Clarke. She looks exactly the same as she did three years ago—right down to the dried tear tracks and squared jaw.

Lexa can feel Anya and Bellamy’s eyes on her, but Lexa, as always, only has eyes for Clarke, as the blonde makes her way to the pulpit, touching her father’s coffin as she passes by.

When she turns to face the gathered family and friends, a mask falls into place, and Lexa recognizes that this is Clarke coping. This is Clarke turning herself off as she prepares to deliver her father’s eulogy. A sob escapes Lexa’s lungs, just as Clarke takes a steading breath.

“My father…is probably so bored right now.” Clarke’s mouth spreads into a smile and it gives everyone else permission to giggle a little or at least grin, and Lexa does because it’s true. This whole affair would bore Jake to— 

Well.

“The thing about my dad is that he never let any life go to waste. His life mantra was quite simply: Make the most of it. And that’s exactly what he did.” 

Clarke leans forward on the pulpit, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. 

“A few summers ago, my dad asked me to go on a camping trip with him. I was sixteen, so naturally it was the absolute last thing I wanted to do.” 

A sob escapes her lips, but she covers it up with a laugh. 

“Who am I kidding? I’m twenty now and I’m still not a huge fan of camping.”

She looks down at her hands.

“In any case, I only agreed to go after he agreed to let me bring my best friend…” Clarke looks up and, before either of them can do anything about it, Clarke’s eyes meet Lexa’s.

The reedy quality to her voice betrays her, “Lexa.” 

Bellamy reaches for Lexa’s hand, and she takes it. Clarke takes notice, and it snaps her back to the situation at hand. 

“Anyway, um, the three of us drive out to the campsite. It’s not that long of a drive. We set up our tents and make a fire. My dad attempted to make up a couple of ghost stories…he was a lot better at it than I let on.”

The crowd ripples with a few chuckles.

“And then we went to bed.” 

And then they stayed up talking about building a life together, Lexa recalls. And then Clarke whispered to Lexa that she was her soulmate. 

“Only to be rudely awakened by my dad a few hours later. ‘Come on girls, you aren’t going to want to miss this,’ he said. And he dragged us out of our nice warm tent into the gross, dewy morning. And he made us basically climb up a mountain while it was still dark. Not the most safety conscious guy, my dad. 

Clarke takes a deep breath before continuing. 

"But when we got the top, he led us to this bench right on the summit. At this point, I was still failing to see the significance of all of this, but my dad just shushed me and pulled out a thermos of coffee. The consummate Boy Scout, always prepared.” 

Clarke looks directly at Lexa again, this time on purpose, before pressing on. 

“Five minutes later, I saw one of the most beautiful sunrises I have ever seen.” 

She goes back to addressing the crowd. 

“My dad squeezed my shoulder and said, ‘See, Clarke. Your life is happening, and you have to make the most of it.’ The three of us watched the sunrise and sunset from that summit every day for the rest of the week. We made the most of that trip. We made the most of what life had to offer. And that’s exactly what my dad always did.” 

Clarke’s mask starts to break down, one small sob and sniffle at a time. 

“I love my dad a lot. And obviously so do all of you. But…” completely broken down now, Clarke delivers the final words through tears, “I don’t think my dad would want us to waste any time on grief. He’d want us all to make the most of this life—however much we have left….easier said than done, though, I guess.” 

Clarke sputters out a nervous laugh, and directs her gaze to her father’s peaceful, but lifeless body. 

“I love you, Dad.” 

Lexa can almost hear Jake’s voice answering back like he always had: _I love you too, kid._

*

The reception was less nice, but only because it was incredibly uncomfortable to be back at the Griffins’ house under such circumstances. Truthfully, it would be uncomfortable regardless given the company, but no one wanted to be brought back together like this. 

Abby zeroes in on Lexa immediately, wrapping her up in a tight hug, Lexa allows herself to sink into the embrace. Abby begins rambling when they pull apart. 

“I’m so glad you’re here. I mean, I wish it was…um, but I’m glad you could get away…from touring. I know it’s your career now. Gustus told us. Jake is. Was. So proud…It’s just nice to see another familiar face—” 

Lexa takes Abby’s hands into her own. “Abby, of course I would be here. Nothing could keep me away.”

Abby reaches up to stroke Lexa’s cheek. “You know Jake and I have always thought of you as ours.”

“And I you,” Lexa replies softly.

Abby nods, but excuses herself. It hurts Lexa to see someone as unflappable as Abby fighting to keep it together.

Before she can dwell on it anymore, Lincoln is at her side offering her a plate of food.

“Here. You haven’t eaten all day.”

Lexa takes the plate, but doesn’t make a move to eat anything off of it.

“I’m serious, Lexa.”

“Why are you always taking care of me?” Lexa jokes half heartedly, taking a bite of coleslaw. 

“Because, despite what he thinks, Bellamy can’t do it all himself.”

“What are you talking about? Without me, this family wouldn’t exist,” Bellamy counters, shoving a pulled pork slider into his mouth.

“I’m only here for the groupies,” Anya interjects, taking a swig from a beer.

“Digusting,” Bellamy scoffs.

Lexa can’t help but smile. These three people are the reason why she even has the strength to be here today. And they deserve a little break.

“Lincoln, stop coddling me, and go talk to Octavia. She’s been keeping tabs on you since we got here.”

Almost as if on cue, the younger Blake darts in from the kitchen to the den only to catch a glimpse of Lincoln and Lexa and turn right back around into the kitchen.

He starts to protest, but Lexa holds up her hand to stop him. “I’m not going to break,” she turns to Bellamy, “And _you._ You better say hi to your sister before Lincoln steals her away for the evening.” 

“But—“

“No buts, Bellamy Blake.” She fixes him with a stern glare. Bellamy just shakes his head. 

“Whatever you say, Commander.”

“And don’t you forget it, Blake.”

That just leaves Anya looking at Lexa expectantly. “You gonna give me marching orders too, Commander?”

Lexa rolls her eyes. She really doesn’t understand why Bellamy started calling her that. “Yeah, go get yourself another beer.” 

“Aye, aye,” Anya responds, giving Lexa a mock salute as she heads back into the kitchen. 

Lexa wastes no time heading out to the backyard for a bit of fresh air.

*

All things considered, it’s a beautiful day. It doesn’t quite fit the occasion, with all the sunshine and the sweet breeze of late Spring.

Lexa’s feet are on autopilot as they take her down to the wood line of the property, while she rolls up the sleeves of her dark grey button down.

She is completely unsurprised to see Clarke sitting on the wooden bench situated under the shade of a tree. The two of them helped Jake build it the summer after their freshman year, and it was exactly where Lexa had been headed herself.

Clarke doesn’t notice her approaching until Lexa is practically standing in front of her. She looks beautiful, as always, with her mascara smudged down her face, her heels kicked off in front of her, and her legs tucked underneath her. Lexa almost forgets.

She has to clench her jaw to keep from grinning when Clarke jumps a little at her presence.

“Lexa.”

It’s breathy and reverent and Lexa hates that she missed the sound. 

“Clarke,” Lexa replies evenly. “Is it okay if I…?” She gestures to the other side of the bench. 

“Oh, go ahead.” 

“Thanks,” Lexa says with a nod, taking her seat, as far away from Clarke as possible. 

Every fiber of Lexa’s body is screaming for her to reach out and touch Clarke, but she keeps her hands firmly folded in her lap. 

“I didn’t think you would come.” 

“Of course, I came, Clarke. He was practically my dad too.” It comes out more with more bite than Lexa intended. 

“I know…it’s just…” 

 _It’s just we haven’t spoken in three years._ Lexa wants so badly for Clarke to just say it. To admit to what has happened between them, but she knows she won’t. 

“…you’ve been busy. Octavia told me about your touring.” 

Lexa scoffs quietly. “Family is more important than the tour.” 

“I—” Clarke starts, but bites her tongue, “I know.” 

An uneasy silence settles between them, and Lexa figures she has to be the one to break it, otherwise Clarke will just get up and leave. 

“It was nice, what you said at the service.” 

Clarke smiles but doesn’t look at Lexa. 

“Thanks. I tried to think of a memory that didn’t include you, but I couldn’t.” 

It’s meant as a joke, but it falls flat. Clarke tries to recover, “Lexa, I didn’t mean—” 

“I know you didn’t, Clarke,” Lexa replies, unconsciously reaching for Clarke’s hand. It’s only a small surprise when Clarke lets her take it. 

“I miss him so much.” 

“Me too.” 

Another silence stretches out between them, but Lexa can only bring herself to focus on Clarke rubbing small circles on Lexa’s hand with her thumb. So familiar, almost like coming home. But after three years, the novelty paralyzes her. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Clarke declares, finally turning to look Lexa in the eye. 

Lexa stares right back. She knows she told the others she would be strong, but Clarke makes her so weak. 

“Me too.” 

In one fluid motion Clarke slides closer to Lexa, leaning into her shoulder, and Lexa lets go of Clarke’s hand in favor of wrapping her arm tightly around Clarke’s waist. 

After a moment, Clarke’s shoulders start to quake as she silently cries into Lexa’s shirt. Lexa prays for three things then: first, that Clarke’s grieving process will be relatively quick (but she knows grief never is), second, that Lexa will have the strength to walk away from Clarke when this weekend is over (but she already suspects she won’t), and third, that what _Lexa_ remembers about most about that camping trip would stop replaying in her mind (but she knows she’s not that lucky).

* * *

 

_“Alright, girls. We have a long road ahead of us tomorrow, so I’m gonna hit the hay.” Jake declares, standing up, wiping his hands on his jeans._

_“Dad, just because we are camping doesn’t mean you need to talk like a character out of a Western,” Clarke teases, leaning into Lexa._

_“Clarke, it’s a pretty common phrase,” Jake raises his eyebrows, directing his gaze to Lexa, “Isn’t it, Lex?”_

_Before Lexa can answer, Clarke tilts her head up to look at her. “Lexa Woods, if you take my father’s side over mine, there will be hell to pay.”_

_Clarke attempts to follow up her threat with a glare, but it’s far too adorable to actually be effective._

_Lexa looks up from Clarke to grin at Jake, “It is a very common phrase, Jake.”_

_“I can always count on you, Lexa.”_

_They share a smile, and Clarke stands up suddenly._

_“That’s it. I can’t handle the both of you. I guess I will also ‘hit the hay’ since that is apparently a completely normal thing to say.” She stomps off toward her tent. She’s nearly there when she turns back, fixing Lexa with yet another glare, “Coming?”_

_Jake backs into his tent, raising up his hands in surrender, “Good luck, kid.”_

_Lexa gulps as she watches her only ally wash his hands of the mess he pushed her into._

_Well. She kind of stepped in it. Semantics._

_Lexa turns back, smiling tentatively to a still very grumpy Clarke. “Mercy?”_

_Clarke crosses her arms, slowly sauntering over to a slightly terrified Lexa. She quirks and eyebrow and grins down to her friend._

_“Only if you come.”_

_“What?!” is out of Lexa’s mouth before she can think about it, and she can feel how red her face is. But Clarke just holds out her hand._

_“Come with me, you goof,” she says, grabbing Lexa’s hand and pulling her to her feet._

_Lexa takes a couple of deep breaths, recovering from the unexpected adrenaline spike. “Where are we going?”_

_“I’m not telling you, traitor.” But Clarke is smiling when she turns back to lead her into the woods, so Lexa just concentrates on committing the image of Clarke’s hand in hers, her back to her, leading Lexa only God knows where to memory._

_As the trees start to thin out around them, a lake comes into view—illuminated only by moonlight. There is a small rowboat beached a few yards away, and Clarke leads Lexa right to it._

_“Get in.”_

_“Why? Are you planning to murder me out here?”_

_Clarke pulls Lexa to her, their faces only inches apart. She smirks._

_“Don’t tempt me,” she whispers before backing away and gesturing to the boat. After a moment, Lexa relents and gets in._

_Clarke pushes the boat out into the water, and then wades out into the lake, and Lexa helps her inside. They row out to the lake’s center in a comfortable silence._

_“This is kind of romantic, isn’t it?” Clarke says, turning around to face Lexa._

_“I guess so.”_

_Clarke’s eyebrow does that thing that makes Lexa’s mouth go dry._

_“We’re alone on a moonlit lake, Lex. I don’t think there’s anything to debate here.”_

_Lexa doesn’t want to, but she blushes. “Yeah, well, it’s you and me though,” is all she can muster for a reply._

_“Doesn’t mean it can’t be romantic,” Clarke counters, scooting closer._

_“Clarke,” Lexa tries to admonish._

_“Lexa,” Clarke parrots, and Lexa knows Clarke has no interest in following the rules tonight, as she inches ever closer._

_“You were the one who said she wasn’t ready, remember? It wouldn’t be right for me…it would mean too much,” Lexa pleads, fighting to keep a level head._

_“Lexa, stop thinking, just this once.”_

_“I’m just—” Respecting your wishes. That’s what gets cut off by Clarke pressing her lips to hers._

_Lexa is not too clear on what the rules are right now, but she is fairly certain kissing Clarke when Clarke had told her she’s not ready for their relationship to change is not allowed._

_Except Clarke’s lips are moving against hers, urging Lexa to give in. But Lexa is strong, resolute not to—fuck, Clarke’s tongue, she finds, is much more insistent._

_They break apart because breathing is still a thing both of them need to do, much to Lexa’s distaste. Lexa feels Clarke rest her forehead to hers, and when she finally opens her eyes, she is met with Clarke’s radiant smile. Lexa returns it with a nervous one._

_“Wow,” Clarke breathes._

_“Wow,” Lexa echoes._

_“Can we…can we do that again?” Clarke asks, her eyes full of excitement and, Lexa swears, love. And Lexa wants to say yes immediately. There is nothing she wants more, but Clarke said—_

_“Does this mean you’re ready?”_

_The excitement in Clarke’s eyes dulls a little. She looks from Lexa’s lips, up to her eyes, and then leans back away._

_“No. I—” Clarke starts, biting her lip before continuing. “No. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to kiss you again. And here, alone out in the middle of this lake, in the middle of nowhere, I don’t see the harm in that.”_

_Maybe it’s the memory of Clarke’s tongue in her mouth, but Lexa doesn’t see the harm in it either._

_“Okay.”_

_Clarke lights up, leaning closer. “Okay?”_

_Lexa nods. “Yes.”_

_“Yes,” Clarke whispers as she leans in, meeting Lexa’s lips for the second time._  

* * *

 

“There you are, Commander,” Bellamy’s voice rings through the backyard, causing both Clarke and Lexa to jump. Lexa immediately slides as far away from Clarke as she can, and she doesn’t miss Clarke’s confused face as she does so.

Bellamy approaches the bench with Anya and Lincoln in tow. It’s not until he’s face to face with Clarke that he acknowledges her presence. He softens slightly, “Hey, Clarke. I’m, uh…sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you, Bellamy,” Clarke answers, “You look well.” 

Bellamy just nods, turning his attention back to Lexa. “I think it’s time we head out.” 

Lexa almost laughs. Before walking into the Griffins’ house, Bellamy and Lexa had agreed upon that as their warning phrase. Either one of them says it, and the other gets up and leaves because it either means Lexa feels like she is in over her head or Bellamy can see she’s about to get there. 

She almost laughs because the mental image of the expression Clarke’s face would make as Lexa explains this is the funniest thing Lexa has thought of in years. 

“Already? I feel like you guys just got here,” Clarke protests lightly, pointedly trying to catch Bellamy’s eye. In turn, he pointedly ignores her. 

“Come on, Lex.” 

They exchange a look: Bellamy warning her that she’s close to doing something she might regret, and Lexa assuring him she can handle it—even if she’s not so sure of that herself. 

It takes just a little too long for Clarke. 

“Look at me, Bellamy.” 

He doesn’t, choosing instead to hold out his hand to Lexa. She stands, but she doesn’t take it, and it falls limply at his side. 

“You guys go without me,” Lexa states evenly. 

“That’s dumb,” Anya pipes up, “Then one of us will have to pick you up later. Just come on.” 

“Is this some sort of…intervention?” Clarke spits out, confused. 

Lexa forces a laugh. “No, nothing like that.” It definitely is, but Lexa is still in control here. She turns to Clarke, “Would it be okay if I stayed over tonight? I feel like we just got to talking.” 

“Sure…if that’s okay with your entourage here,” Clarke answers, glaring at Bellamy who still refuses to look at her. 

“You sure?” Bellamy asks one more time. 

Before Lexa can answer, Lincoln does. “Come on, Bell. Let them talk,” he turns to Lexa, “Call us when you want us to pick you up.” 

“I will,” Lexa replies, smiling at him. Always the peacemaker. He turns to leave, Anya follows, and after another worried glance from Bellamy, he leaves too. 

Lexa sits back down next to Clarke who looks adorably confused, even if Lexa isn’t supposed to be thinking about how adorable Clarke looks. 

“What was that about?” 

Lexa, a little bashful, smiles, “We’ve been through a lot together with this whole band thing. They are a little protective.” 

“’A little’ is an understatement,” Clarke counters, and Lexa allows herself a laugh. After a beat, Clarke continues, “And you and Bellamy…?” 

It’s an open-ended question, but it’s clear Clarke doesn’t want to hear a certain answer. Completely understandable—it would be incredibly awkward if your ex-boyfriend and your ex-best friend started dating. 

But Lexa is happy to put Clarke at ease. 

“You know how Bell gets. He’s a very noble guy,” she answers, crossing her legs. 

“He wasn’t that noble when I knew him,” Clarke says with only a hint of bitterness. 

He was, of course, it’s just that Clarke was on the wrong side of it. 

“Well, we went to William and Mary together after…everything. And we dropped out and started this band together, so…he’s kind of been on the ground floor of my life for awhile.”

Clarke nods, thoughtful, but still not satisfied, “But you and him aren’t…?” 

“Please don’t insinuate that I would date Bellamy Blake,” Lexa answers. She wants to add ‘you know how fucked up that is’ but she doesn’t because maybe Clarke doesn’t realize that. Even after all the fucked up shit they’ve been through. 

Thick clouds have moved to block the sun, so maybe that’s why Clarke shivers when Lexa reaches for her hand. “I don’t want to talk about Bellamy. I want to talk about you.” _And me. You and me_. It’s practically a given. 

“Can we just…not though? Not right now. Can we just sit like we were?” Clarke asks softly. And who is Lexa to deny her? 

“Of course,” Lexa answers as she scoots closer to Clarke and pulls her into her side. 

She tries not to dwell on the sensation of Clarke pressed so close to her, or the feeling of Clarke nuzzling into her chest, or the smell of Clarke’s shampoo—the same she’s used since she was seventeen—but it’s hard because this is something Lexa has been trying not to think about for three years. 

They stay like that until Clarke actually starts to shiver because the sun has sunk low into the sky. So Lexa uses all of her strength to slide away from Clarke and onto her feet, offering her a hand, and she suggests that they should help Abby clean up from the reception. 

Clarke takes her hand and, as they walk back to the house together, Lexa tries not to dwell on the fact that even though so much has changed, nothing has changed at all.

*

When they step inside hand in hand, Lexa doesn’t miss the way Abby’s face lights up just for a second, and suddenly this all feels highly inappropriate. 

Abby’s husband, Clarke’s father, _her_ …very close paternal friend, Jake is dead. And here she is holding hands with Clarke like that and senior year never happened. 

Lexa also doesn’t miss the way Clarke grimaces when Lexa releases her hand, but she presses forward like she did anyway. 

“Abby, what can I do to help you clean up?” 

Abby gives her a tight smile, shaking her head. “Thank you, Lexa, but no. Marcus and Callie took care of most of it while you two were outside.” 

“Is it okay if Lexa stays over, Mom?” 

It is a question that hadn’t really been asked since they were fifteen. After that point, Lexa’s presence in the Griffin Home had essentially been permanent. But now Clarke is twenty and Lexa is twenty-one, and it has been a good long while since Lexa has stayed the night. 

“Of course, honey,” Abby answers, like none of that matters, kissing them both on the forehead. “I’m going to try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you both in the morning.” 

She turns to leave, but then turns back around, wrapping them both up in her arms. “I love you both.” 

“Love you too, Mom,” Clarke answers automatically, and Lexa only stutters a little when she says, “You too, Abby.” 

As they watch Abby head upstairs, Lexa feels Clarke’s hand find hers. She doesn’t have the heart to let go again. Clarke eyes find her own, and it’s then that Lexa realizes how exactly unprepared she is for this. 

“Come up to my room with me?” Clarke asks so delicately, like any false note could send Lexa away, and she sort of wants to let Clarke know how right she is. This is dangerous. She wants to call Bellamy and tell him he was right, she should not have stayed. 

Instead she lets Clarke lead her up to her room. 

It is different, but only in the sense that it’s emptier. Clarke took her desk and all of her posters and pictures with her when she moved to New York, so the space seems bigger and the walls are bare. 

Still, the first thing Lexa focuses on is Clarke’s beat up ukulele laying on the double bed next to a travel case. 

“You still play?” comes out of Lexa’s mouth unbidden. 

“Well, I’m not a rockstar or anything, but yeah. I don’t go anywhere without it,” Clarke replies, leading Lexa to her bed with a soft smile. 

“I’m not a rockstar,” Lexa protests, biting her lip. 

“Your band’s facebook page begs to differ,” Clarke counters, smirking. Lexa wonders if all of this is as surreal for Clarke as it is for her. Then she remembers that Jake is dead, and that answers her question. 

“It’s just that…you don’t post covers anymore.” 

“It’s kind of hard to do that without my duet partner.”

Okay, Lexa walked right into that one. But she isn’t going to let Clarke make her feel bad about herself. 

Lexa moves to sit on the chaise lounge at the opposite end of the room. After finals week, junior year, Clarke and Lexa made out on this lounge for a solid hour. A gluttonous celebration of being finished with AP U.S. History and AP Biology forever. It only ended when Clarke fingers dipped below Lexa’s waistband and Lexa— 

But being assaulted with those memories is easier than sitting next to Clarke on her bed right now. 

“Yes, I suppose that would be difficult,” is all Lexa offers. 

After a moment, Clarke sighs and shakes her head, leveling Lexa with a scrutinizing gaze. Despite her nerves, Lexa manages to stare right back. 

A loaded beat later, Clarke breaks the silence. 

“My dad is dead, I missed all of my finals, I can’t even think about going back to school, and all I want is for us to be normal again.”

Lexa can hardly believe what she’s hearing. She stands, unable to keep still. “Are you seriously using your father’s death to guilt trip me into reconciling with you?”

Clarke stands, grabbing Lexa’s arm, trying to placate her. “No, that—that came out wrong.”

“It certainly sounded very articulate,” Lexa counters, shaking off Clarke’s grasp.

Clarke grabs Lexa’s shoulders, forcing her to stop. “I don’t want to guilt trip you. I swear. I just…” tears begin to run down Clarke’s cheeks, “Lex, he’s gone. My dad is gone. And you’re here and I’m fucking it up again.”

Lexa is almost embarrassed at how quickly all of her reservations disappear as she pulls Clarke into her arms, pressing a hand soothingly to Clarke’s head as sobs wrack her body.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she says, “I’m not going anywhere,” over and over, soft and gentle, until she and Clarke are lying side by side on Clarke’s bed. Clarke’s head is on her chest and Lexa is running her fingers through her golden hair, and it is like a time capsule. If Lexa closes her eyes, she knows she would be back in high school and Clarke would still be her best friend, and maybe Clarke is crying over a bad test grade or something else completely and totally inconsequential.

Lexa wants to be firm here. She wanted to be able to do her duty by Jake—to honor his life—and then leave. Because opening this door again with Clarke, it doesn’t just hurt. It feels right. Like this is the way things are supposed to be. But she has spent the last three years building a life that has no room for Clarke, and yet. 

“You aren’t fucking anything up.” It is a soft whisper against the crown of Clarke’s head. 

“You almost walked out on me.” _Again_. Clarke doesn’t need to say it for Lexa to know that is how she views what happened to them. In her mind, Lexa abandoned her, and if she hadn’t, the two of them would be about to start their senior year at Berkley together. 

She is not wrong, but she’s not right either. But Clarke is still crying into her chest, so Lexa can’t bring herself to try to explain. What is done is done, after all. 

When Clarke finally stops shaking, Lexa gently asks, “What’s this about you not going back to school?” 

“You’re one to talk,” her voice is low and like gravel from crying, “You and Bell dropped out of college to form a rock band.” 

“That’s different.” 

“Is it?” Clarke presses. 

“Yes, it is. Bellamy was a music major and I wanted to be a politician. Who needs more of those?” Lexa is rewarded with a low chuckle. “But you’re going to be a doctor, Clarke. That’s important.” 

Clarke turns to look up at her. She is quiet when she asks, “What if I don’t want to be a doctor? Would I still be important?” 

Lexa takes it in stride. “Yes. But you’ve wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember.” 

The next words Clarke says are deliberate, like she’s been waiting to say them for a while. “I’ve been taking art classes at Columbia. Just electives, but…my advisor was starting to ask if I wanted to change my major and…I don’t know,” Clarke peters out. 

It is not exactly a surprise to hear that Clarke has been taking art classes. She used to spend hours doodling elaborate temporary tattoos on Lexa’s arms with Sharpie pens. In turn, Lexa would spend hours watching Clarke’s face as she worked and enjoying the idea of being Clarke’s canvas, relishing in the delicate scratching of the pen on her skin. 

That said, Clarke also sleeps in scrubs. Then again, maybe she doesn’t anymore. What does Lexa know?

“I really want to ask Dad,” she says with a bitter laugh. 

Lexa really doesn’t know what to say, so she keeps quiet and just keeps running her fingers through Clarke’s hair. 

“So, I don’t know if I can go back to New York, but I don’t really want to stay here either,” Clarke finishes, “Because nothing is really here for me anymore.” 

“You could come on the tour.” 

It is out of Lexa’s mouth before she even realizes it. Like a reflex, like part of her was just waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger. “I mean, I don’t know,” she back pedals, “it’s Warped Tour. I don’t even know if it’s allowed. And I’d have to check with the others,” which Lexa knows is actually a moot point. She is the Commander. But still, they won’t be happy. 

To her surprise, Clarke sits up, a serious look on her face. “You mean that? If everyone agreed and it was allowed and everything?” 

Lexa shrugs, trying to play it of like she isn’t totally confused as to why she got herself in this situation, when this type of thing—this irrational catering to Clarke—is the exact type of thing she was trying to avoid. “Yeah. If it would help.” 

Clarke breaks out it the brightest smile Lexa has seen in a long time. It is exactly how she remembers.

“I would love that,” she says earnestly, “I mean, I have to talk to my mom, but…if you’re serious…” 

“I am,” Lexa says, and she realizes it is the truth—even if it is probably a bad idea. She wants Clarke to see who she has become without her, and witness what she has built for herself, but also…maybe it is time to share this part of her life with Clarke. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” Lexa asks, a small grin on her face. 

“Yes, I’ll go on tour with you,” Clarke answers, pulling Lexa into a fierce hug. In the back of her mind, Lexa knows this will either make or break them. She knows it will either make or break her. But for right now, she is in Clarke’s arms, and she stopped her crying, and Lexa is weak.


	2. The Note From Which A Chord Is Built

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa breaks the news to the band that Clarke is joining them on Warped Tour, there are some awkward text conversations and phone calls, and finally the band plays a show - because this is a rock band AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some songfic elements in this chapter, but like, how else to do write about a concert? Names of songs used are at the bottom. It does help if you listen to them at some point.

Waking up next to Clarke was, despite everything, completely normal. Well, more normal than not waking up next to her. Definitely more normal than waking up next to Bellamy, which…has happened from time to time, even if neither them will admit to it. 

Lexa allows herself the indulgence of taking in the sight of Clarke: Completely at peace in sleep, her hair a frizzy mess, and a little drool on her cheek.

This was not how this was supposed to go. If Lexa had her way, she would be in Los Angeles prepping for Warped Tour, doing the small pre-tour shows they had planned with Nyko. If Lexa had her way, Jake would still be alive and she would have never step foot in the Griffin House ever again.

The fact that this is all wrapped up in Jake’s death makes it that much harder: Lexa can’t just leave Clarke and never look back. Clarke is grieving and she needs people to support her, not to leave her hanging. On the other hand, Lexa can’t get wrapped up in Clarke again. She can’t let Clarke have her way with her again.

Either Lexa hurts Clarke or Clarke hurts Lexa.

Lexa sits up and stretches, dragging her fingers through her messy hair. She immediately pulls it up into a bun. It’s then that her eyes land on Clarke’s uke and travel case, and—

Fuck. Lexa invited Clarke on tour with her.

“Good Morning,” Clarke croons, her voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” Lexa replies as she starts to put on her shoes. 

Clarke sits up, stretching and tucking her legs underneath her. “Are you going to talk to the guys today?”

Lexa feigns confusion, “Hm?”

“About me traveling with you on the tour,” Clarke clarifies. Unfortunately, she hadn’t forgotten at all.

She could take it back—rescind her offer, say she wasn’t thinking clearly. It wouldn’t be a lie. But Lexa didn’t want to.

“Right. Right, I suppose I will.”

Clarke gets out of bed and heads to the adjoining bathroom, “When does it start?”

“June, but we’ll be touring on the coast a little to prep.” Lexa tries not to stare as Clarke splashes water on her face, but the simplicity of all of this is getting to her.

“And when do you head back to L.A.?” Clarke asks, turning back to look at Lexa as she dries her face.

“Sunday night.”

“Well, I’m heading back to New York to get the rest of my summer things Monday morning, so I guess I’ll talk to Mom about the tour after I get back.” Clarke pulls her hair up into a messy top knot. “Uh…is your number still the same?”

There’s the elephant. Lexa was beginning to think it left.

Lexa nods, biting out a quick, “Yep.”

“Okay, then…I’ll call you to coordinate after I talk to her,” Clarke continues, only a little embarrassed.

“You don’t think she’ll say no?” Lexa wonders.

“It’s me and you. My mom never says no to that,” Clarke answers, offering up a sweet smile.

Lexa nods pulling out her phone to shoot Bellamy a quick ‘please, pick me up’ text, as Clarke starts the shower. His ‘on my way’ reply is immediate, like he had been waiting all morning. Knowing Bellamy, he probably had.

Clarke’s head pops out of the bathroom and Lexa knows she’s not wearing any clothes. She wonders if none of this is as difficult for Clarke as it is for her

“Stay for breakfast?”

“Actually, Bellamy just text me that he is on his way.”

“Oh, okay,” disappointment is written all over her face, “Will I see you before you leave?”

“I don’t know,” Lexa answers, standing and collecting her wallet from the bedside table. “I mean, I’d like to, but I don’t know.”

“Well,” Clarke disappears back into the bathroom, coming out a moment later in a bathrobe. “If I don’t…” She holds out her arms for a hug, and as much as part of Lexa hates giving in, the rest of her revels in the embrace.

“Thanks for being here,” Clarke whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Lexa has to fight to stay coherent enough to say, “Couldn’t keep me away,” while squeezing Clarke tight.

They pull apart and Clarke holds Lexa out at an arm’s length. “If you don’t contact me, I’ll assume everyone is okay with me coming along?”

“Okay.”

“Then, I’ll call you after I get back from New York.”

“Yes,” Lexa nods.

Clarke squeeze Lexa’s hands, “Alright then, talk to you soon.” She heads back into the bathroom. Lexa takes it as her cue to see herself out.

*

Bellamy wastes no time before launching into an interrogation when she climbs into Gustus’s truck.

“You smell like her,” he says immediately. “Did you sleep in the same bed?” he accuses with disgust.

“Bellamy, I understand you are trying to protect me, but that is really none of your business. I love you, but please stop this.”

“We are about to go on a national tour, Lexa. I can’t have you flaming out on me over Clarke.”

“Bell, it’s fine.”

“No it’s not fine!” Bellamy exclaims, braking a little to hard at a stop sign, throwing them both forward a little. Lexa glares at him. “Sorry, it’s just. We agreed we would all leave that reception together. That was the plan. You were with her—what?—a couple hours? And you are already making allowances.”

Lexa isn’t often scolded, but she knows Bellamy is right. Clarke was, is, and always will be her blind spot.

“Sorry,” he whispers as he accelerates forward.

“It’s okay,” Lexa whispers back.

“I just don’t want you to end up like you were during first semester. Because, babe, you were a mess.”

Lexa smacks him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t call me ‘babe’.”

“But you don’t object to being called a mess?” He smirks.

“I won’t fight the truth,” Lexa says with a sigh.

Bellamy shoots her a goofy grin and they share a laugh as Bellamy pulls into Gustus’s driveway.

“I’m just glad we’re getting out of here on Sunday. Away from here and away from her, so you won’t be tempted to make stupid decisions anymore.”

He doesn’t notice her silence.

*

Bellamy holds the front door open for Lexa, and she scoffs (like she always does when he does anything that can be remotely perceived as chivalrous), but it is drowned out by Anya screaming, “She lives to fight another day!” as soon as Lexa crosses the threshold while Lincoln fights back a laugh.

Lexa grins tightly and she is sure her friends chalk it up to her normal embarrassment at their antics. Of course, they don’t know what Lexa has done.

“Yes, yes. Very funny, Anya,” Lexa grits out.

“You should know,” Lincoln tells her, handing her a cup of coffee, “they almost bet on whether or not you would come back.” He pours a bit of cream into the cup. “I put a stop to it.”

She turns to fix Bellamy with a glare. “I expect that kind of crap from Anya, but not you, Bell.”

“At least I bet on you coming back today!” Bellamy defends himself, holding up his hands in surrender.

Lexa whips her head around, staring at Anya, decidedly affronted. “Anya! What the hell?”

Anya shrugs, completely unapologetic. “I’ve seen your room, Commander. They haven’t.”

Lexa can’t actually argue, so she settles for shaking her head and taking a sip of her coffee. She takes a seat next to Lincoln at the kitchen table and grabs a banana from the fruit bowl. “Well, I’m back and I never had any intention of doing otherwise,” she retorts, peeling the fruit and taking a bite.

Bellamy plops down across from her. “Nyko skyped in while you were gone. He wants to know if he should try to move our flight up to tomorrow.”

The hope on his face is apparent and it makes what Lexa has to do that much harder. Still, pulling of the band aid is always best.

“I actually have to talk to you guys about the tour.” Her voice is her usual strong and clear, and Lexa is thankful for once.

Anya slides into a seat at the table beside Bellamy, finally interested enough to act like it. “What is it?”

With her three best friends staring at her expectantly, Lexa realizes how stupid it is. This was a stupid decision. She never should have invited Clarke on the tour. This isn’t just about her or Clarke or the both of them. This is about this band accomplishing more than any of them thought they would.

And Lexa is about to ruin it.

It is so selfish. She’s being so selfish.

But she can’t go back now. And more to the point: Lexa doesn’t want to. For once in her life, Lexa wants to show off what she has made of herself. And it’s that desire that allows her to find the words she needs.

“I invited Clarke to tour with us.”

At first, nothing happens. No reactions. All three of their faces blank with surprise.

Then Bellamy laughs. Guffaws, actually, by definition. It’s loud and abrasive, and after he’s done, he catches his breath with a smile.

“Good one, Lexa,” he says, “You really had me going for a second.” The latter half comes out as a warning. This better be a joke.

But Lexa can see that both Anya and Lincoln know it’s not—Anya with her arms crossed and an almost undetectable crease in her forehead and Lincoln now leaning back in his chair with a small smile playing on his lips.

Lexa presses forward. “I know this seems foolish, but…”

There really isn’t an explanation. An actually solid reason or motivation behind inviting Clarke on the tour except—

If she has learned anything in her life, it is that honesty is the best policy.

“I want this.”

There. It’s out. She fights to keep her voice level as she continues on.

“And not that it should be my concern, but Clarke needs this too. And maybe this is a huge mistake, but I think it’s a mistake I need to make.”

“Yeah, but what about what we need? What if your necessary mistake fucks up the tour?” Anya jeers.

“It won’t,” Lexa answers immediately, shaking her head.

“You can’t know that,” Anya counters, slamming her hands down on the table causing Lexa to jump.

“Anya, you know I won’t let my personal life compromise this band. This is not just some outlet for me. This is my career now.” Lexa tries to reassure her, but Anya just rolls her eyes.

“That’s actually bullshit.”

It’s apparently Bellamy’s turn to take a shot at Lexa.

“This band might not be just an outlet for you anymore, but we still get up on stage and play songs about how she broke your heart, how she lied to you…”

He drags his hands through his unruly hair, desperation coming off him in waves.

“How she _used_ you, Lexa. And me. Why, _why_ you want to invite her back into your life—let alone this tour—is beyond me.”

He stands up and approaches Lexa.

“I’m sorry about her dad, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive her. And if you ask me, I don’t think you’re ready to either.” He exhales, frustrated. “But you aren’t asking our opinions, are you, Commander?”

Lexa can barely meet his steely gaze before he stalks off into the guest room. Anya takes the time to throw a glare Lexa’s way before violently pushing her chair back and bolting after him.

With only Lincoln remaining, Lexa hazards a glance his way. She doesn’t _want_ to cry in front of him, but she’s not beyond it.

But, like he always does, Lincoln smiles at her warmly, and Lexa allows herself to fall into the chair next to him. She sags into his shoulder as he continues to sit, the picture of fortitude.

“Believe it or not, I think that could have gone worse,” he says finally, still slightly smiling as he looks down at her.

“Either way, it still sucks,” Lexa counters, sitting up to face him. “And I don’t believe for a second you’re not mad like the others either.”

Lincoln shrugs. “What you and Clarke do is your business.”

“But she’s coming on tour with us, so it affects you too,” Lexa points out, echoing Bellamy and Anya’s worries.

“Yeah, but this was going to happen eventually.”

Lexa looks at him quizzically. “Please, do explain.”

Lincoln smiles at her again, like what he is about to say is the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I get why you guys needed the space, but now…Now it’s getting in the way of you two moving on. To whatever is next.”

Lincoln holds Lexa’s gaze.

“Maybe it’s time for you two to stop running from each other.”

Lexa doesn’t respond, dropping her eyes to focus on playing with her fingers. Lincoln nudges her out of it.

“But what do I know? I’m just a drummer.”

The joke warrants a small laugh and serves its purpose: the room feels a little lighter. Lincoln pulls out his phone as he gets up from the table.

“I’m gonna call Nyko and tell him about this new development. Should I tell him not to move up the flight or what?”

“Don’t you want to see Octavia again before we leave?”

“She left with Raven a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh,” Lexa deflates. “Then…I guess there’s no reason to stay.”

“I’ll see if we can still get a flight out,” Lincoln says, heading for the living room.

“Lincoln?”

He pauses in the kitchen doorway, turning to face Lexa, with the phone already pulled up to his ear.

“What do you think is next?”

He shrugs again. “I dunno. But whatever it is, it’s going to make a great next album.”

Despite herself, the corners of Lexa’s mouth pull into a smile, as she watches Lincoln go.

It’s short-lived, however, because she definitely still has to talk this out with Bellamy. Anya, she can handle, but if Lexa and Bellamy don’t get on the same page, this tour is fucked.

*

Bellamy and Anya both retreated to the back porch, and when Lexa steps out of the house after Bellamy, she finds them both leaning on the crosshatch railing of the porch, with Anya mumbling something to Bellamy while he mutters back. Then Anya catches sight of her, and they both stop before Lexa can make out anything they were saying. She pulls herself up to her full height before gritting out, “Commander,” and making a beeline back into the house.

Just as Anya passes her, Lexa grabs her arm, causing her to stop in her tracks.

“Have your stuff packed up. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Anya shrugs off Lexa’s hold, saying nothing as she crosses into the house, but Lexa knows she’s been heard.

Taking a beat to gather her thoughts but mostly also her courage, she crosses the porch to the railing to lean next to Bellamy. He doesn’t look at her, so she doesn’t look at him, and the two of them stare out into wood line, pointedly not looking at each other for a few moments.

If someone had told her four years ago that Bellamy Blake would be her _best friend_ , she would have had them checked into some sort of mental health facility.

Sure, they had always gotten along. Being friends with Octavia kind of necessitated being friends with Bellamy, and really there was not a whole lot for Lexa to dislike about him. He had always been smart and responsible, if a little arrogant at times, but what high school boy wasn’t? They even shared an appreciation for classics and post-modernism. It wasn’t until after he graduated that she had a problem with him. Because that’s when he and Clarke started dating.

It’s not like that had been any of his fault either. Clarke and Lexa _weren’t_ dating. Clarke was always clear about that. To everyone. To Lexa. It’s just that normally everyone just ignored that and acted like Clarke and Lexa _were_ dating. And Lexa had come to appreciate that very much. Especially since Clarke had kept telling her to simply wait. _Not yet_.

But after a certain point—after Prom third-wheeling with Clarke and Bellamy—Lexa couldn’t wait anymore.

He was the last person Lexa expected to be on her side, but when the chips fell, he was there with her. He welcomed her to William & Mary, introduced her to his friends, assured her that they could “be Griffins together” when Lexa had almost withdrew after realizing what W&M’s mascot was.

He was the one came to her with the flyer for the open mic night that started this whole thing.

So, if Lexa owed anyone an explanation, it was Bellamy.

“She didn’t ask me to come, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Bellamy scoffs and still doesn’t look at her. “Yes, because knowing this was actually your idea makes me feel so much better.”

“I know you think it’s stupid—”

“You are damn right I think it’s stupid.” He rounds to face her. “This band, this tour, all of this is exists because she fucked you over, and here you are, inviting her in like nothing happened, like it’s all water under the bridge.” He turns back to look out into the wood line.

After a moment, Lexa asks, “Do you really think that?”

“I think I made it pretty clear—”

“No, you’ve made it very clear you don’t like my decision. I mean, do you really think that all of this only exists because of what she did?”

Bellamy turns back to face her, frustrated and tired. “Doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.”

Now it was Lexa’s turn to look away.

“I mean, yes, a lot of our songs are about her. But don’t you remember that they were horrible slam poems first?” Lexa doesn’t miss the small grin the passes over Bellamy’s face. “Don’t you remember that you were the one that showed up at my dorm at three in the morning on a Wednesday with your acoustic and a hook?”

He smiles again, this time in earnest. “You were so pissed at me.”

“I had an eight a.m. in the morning.”

“That you skipped.”

“Because you kept me up until six working out harmonies!”

“Yeah, but if I recall correctly, I _did_ take you out to breakfast to make it up to you,” he counters with a laugh.

“True, you did,” Lexa concedes. A new comfortable silence forms between them. After a moment, Lexa continues. “My point is,” she starts, hooking her arm through his, “when I think about why I have this band and this tour and why all of _this_ exists, I think it’s because of you. It’s because when everything blew up in my face, you decided to be there for me.”

“You were my friend too, Lexa. I couldn’t stand by and let her treat you like that. And that’s why I think it’s insane that—”

Lexa cuts Bellamy off before he can get riled up again, “But do you know how much I hated you then, Bellamy? You can say we were friends, but you were with her, so I hated you. And I don’t think you were completely blind to it either.”

Bellamy drops his head, slightly ashamed, proving Lexa’s suspicion.

“And yet, you made it possible for all of these good things to happen to me.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt again,” he says finally meeting her eyes.

“And I won’t. Because I have you and Lincoln and Anya. And I have this band. I’m not the same girl who wrote that shitty slam poetry, Bellamy. And I think it’s time Clarke sees what we’ve built for ourselves in her absence.”

“I don’t,” Bellamy says, a last defiant effort to sway her.

After a beat, she levels with him. “Look, I get that, but this feels right to me. I’m not asking you agree, but can you respect that I need to do this?”

He stares at her, searching her face for any kind of Clarke-induced weakness. Satisfied that all he sees is purely Lexa, he acquiesces.

“Whatever you say, Commander.” The words are earnest and it’s then that Lexa knows things are going to be okay.

*

Leaving early had been a good choice. It meant that they could start prepping for Warped Tour on schedule, and prepping for Warped Tour actually meant squeezing in a Sunday show. And squeezing in a Sunday show meant getting up at the asscrack of dawn to go over and practice their set before they had to starting making their way to the venue.

In the middle of practice, Lexa exchanges several stilted texts from Clarke:

_Clarke_

_So I talked to my mom._

_About the tour, that is._

_I couldn’t wait._

_She’s cool with it, so…._

_I guess I’ll see you in LA_

_in a few days?_

_I suppose so._

_I mean, if you’re still cool with_

_me coming?_

_I am. I’m actually looking_

_forward to it._

_Me too. :)_

_I’m actually in the middle of_

_practice right now. We have a_

_show tonight._

_Oh!_

_I’m sorry!_

_You have nothing to_

_apologize for._ _  
_

Lexa recognizes the irony of her text, and figures Clarke does too, given how long she waits for the typing bubble to turn into actual words.

_Clarke_

_Still. I’ll let you get back to it._

_I’ll call you tomorrow?_

_Yeah, that would be great._

_Okay, talk to you then._

_Talk to you soon, Clarke._

A couple hours later, while Lexa and company were grabbing a light pre-show dinner before heading over to the venue, Lexa’s phone rings, showing an unknown number.

Lexa answers it hesitantly, not knowing who could possibly be calling her.

“Hello?”

Not a second later, comes the reply. “Hey, Woods. Long time no chat.”

“Raven?” asks, incredulous. Bellamy and Lincoln’s heads both snap in shock to stare at Lexa. She shakes her head, just as confused as they are, before getting up and heading outside.

“Aw, I’m touched you remember the sound of my voice.” Yes, it’s definitely Raven Reyes. “Listen, I’m glad I caught you because you and I need to have a little chat about one Clarke Griffin.”

Of course this was about Clarke. Lexa takes a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever Raven was about to dish out. “Alright, what about her?”

“Did you really think you could just kidnap her without me noticing? Come on, you’re smarter than that,” Raven huffs, “or at least you used to me. Who knows how rockstardom has been treating you.”

“The personal digs aren’t necessary, Raven. And I’m not kidnapping Clarke.”

“But you did ask her to go on tour with you, and that’s basically the same thing.”

Lexa scuffs her boot against the brick storefront. She really didn’t need to deal with this right before a show. “Look, if you have some specific concerns, then tell me.”

“My concerns? Woods, the whole damn thing _concerns_ me.”

Lexa laughs, dry and humorless, but she can’t help it. This is ridiculous. “Yeah, that’s right. According to you, this whole mess was all my fault. I’m some heartless betrayer. Because if it had been you, then you would have just taken it. Is that right, Reyes?” Lexa doesn’t give Raven a chance to defend herself. “Even if that were true, it’s been three years, Jake is dead, and Clarke is grieving and wants to escape. I’m sorry it’s not to you this time.”

The line is so quiet, Lexa almost hangs up, figuring Raven either already did, but that proves not to be the case.

“I thought personal digs weren’t necessary, Woods.”

Lexa exhales loudly, not caring if it’s directly into the phone. “Raven, I didn’t—”

“No, it’s fair game. I am kind of a huge bitch to you one hundred percent of the time. I just don’t—”

“Want Clarke to get hurt more than she already has been. Believe it or not, we’re on the same page.”

Another moment of silence passes on the line before “Okay.”

“So I won’t tell Bellamy and Lincoln to keep an eye out for hit men?”

“Well, for now.” Lexa can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Fair enough.”

Raven remains quiet on the line and Lexa almost tells her she has to go because she has a show to get to ready for after all.

“I hope this is good for the both of you, you know. You may not be my favorite, but…you were always good for Clarke.”

“Thanks, Raven.”

“Sure, whatever. Now, I better let you get back to snorting coke or whatever it is you rockstars do.”

“I do not do coke!” Lexa yells. “I do have a show later though, so I do have to go.”

“Shit, really?!” Raven practically shrieks. “Well, then, knock ‘em dead, Woods.”

“Sure.”

“Seriously. Maybe, I’ll catch a show when you are on this side of the country again.”

 “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Raven replies almost completely unironically. Lexa almost forgot that Star Wars practically permeated Raven’s speech patterns.

“Seriously, Raven, I have to go.”

“Right. Okay, bye.”

Lexa says her goodbye and hangs up the phone, hurrying back into the restaurant to finish what was left of her salad.

“What was that about?” Bellamy asked.

She could brush him off, lie or tell the truth. The decision was easy. He was just going to have to deal.

“Clarke,” she answered quickly, shoving a forkful of lettuce into her mouth.

“What about her?”

“Raven is about as happy as you are that she’s joining us for the tour, so I think you can figure out the conversation from there,” Lexa said, after taking a moment to swallow her food.

“Really, you’re going to start a fight right before a show?” Anya baited, clearly wanting to start something.

“No, I’m not. This is happening and everyone needs to learn how to deal with it.” She pushes back from the table, effectively ending the fight before it can start. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get the check. Go wait in the van.”

Lexa knew what she could handle. It was time for her to show her friends exactly who was in charge here.

*

Whenever anyone talks about going backstage at a concert, they think bowls with only green M&Ms and bouncers and roped-off entrances.

Just FYI, that really only applies to people like Beyoncé.

Backstage at this concert, Lexa’s concert, _Heda’s_ concert, there are bottles of water and Anya’s cigarettes. There is a security guy making sure no one can come back to bother them, but he isn’t necessarily the picture of intimidation.

Lexa watches the tech guys switch over to their equipment from band that opened for them-- _Pharmboy,_ that’s what they were called. A little grungy alt-rock outfit from Boyle Heights that had opened for Heda a couple of times before.  They were a little more poppy than what the usual Heda crowd is into, but Lexa likes their sound and is more than a little pleased that they snagged a spot on Warped Tour as well.

Bellamy comes up beside her, his guitar slung over his back, apprehension apparent on his face. “They’re getting tighter,” he says nodding to the Pharmboy frontman, Monty Green, as they watched him and the rest of his band make their way off stage.

“Cleaner too,” Lexa agrees. “They aren’t playing over the crowd anymore.”

“It’ll be fun to have them around.” He clearly has something else he wants to say, but Lexa doesn’t have time for him to get up the courage to say whatever it is.

“Listen, I have to get ready.”

“I know. I just—I’m sorry I’ve been a dick lately.” He meets her gaze, ashamed, but still with the stupid crooked grin that Clarke Griffin fell for on his face.  After dinner, they had taken time to change into clothes better suited for a show, which pretty much equates into black v-necks and jeans for everyone.

After all these years, Lexa gets it, she really does. She’s just also really gay.

“I know. Just try to be a less of a dick when Clarke gets here.”

“Oh, anything for the Princess, Commander.”

Lexa flips him off as she heads to the bathroom, grabbing a small make-up bag on the way.

Once inside, she heads straight for the sink, setting the make-up bag on the counter and pulling out what Bellamy had lovingly designated as her “warpaint”.  She starts by pulling up her unruly hair into a tight bun, with every strand of hair pulled tight and away from her face.

She stares at her own reflection for a few minutes, staring herself down, and focusing on her breathing. She has lost track of how many shows they’ve played, but she still gets nervous like it’s the first one every single time. But when she steps out on that stage, she won’t be Lexa anymore.

Then, carefully but with practiced hands, she begins the process of transforming from Lexa into Heda.

*

Once Lexa returns from the bathroom, she nods to Lincoln who immediately takes his place behind the drums. As soon as he steps foot on the stage, the crowd takes notice, transforming their impatient chatting into a quiet murmur. Once Lincoln takes his seat, the chant begins.

It’s like a show ritual at this point. It started when one of Anya’s friends, Quint, started it after their fourth or fifth show. They were the opening act and practically no one in the audience was there to see them, so Quint just started chanting, making them seem more important than they were, and infecting the audience with a sense of anticipation. Soon the whole club was chanting along with him. It would have completely backfired if their set had sucked, but it didn’t. So, for whatever reason, it caught on, and it’s been a Heda show tradition ever since.

Tonight, it starts like it always does: quietly.

“Heda, Heda, Heda.”

It’s a persistent and steady whisper, so when Anya takes her place she basically saunters to the beat, taking her place to Lincoln’s left and readying her bass.

“ _Heda, Heda, Heda._ ”

The collective whisper grows into a full-blown chant. It’s Bellamy’s turn, and he walks like he’s nothing but business, barely acknowledging the crowd as he checks the three mics, and readies his guitar and keyboard setup, taking his place at Lincoln’s right.

“ _HEDA, HEDA, HEDA._ ”

The excitement is palpable and the crowd can barely contain their screaming to the single word, but they do because they know what is next.

Lexa steps out on the stage, warpaint spread over her eyes, and guitar slung over her back like a sword. She walks, measured and proud, across to the stage to her place in front of the mic at its center.

She looks out into the crowd as she pulls her guitar forward, the perfect picture of confidence. She takes a deep breath.

And speaks into the mic.

“Hello, everyone. Let’s begin.”

The crowd erupts into screams and cheers, wolf whistles and clapping, almost in a frenzy now.

But Lexa only holds up a hand, and they fall silent. They only have to wait another moment before she begins to sing.

_Just hear me out._

Her voice is confident, but delicate. No trace of the nerves she had in the bathroom. A measure later, she begins strumming her guitar, clean and warm in tone.

_This was all my fault_

_Now you’ve brought me death_

_And it’s everything I’ve wanted_

Bellamy comes in with a simple piano line to accompany her.

_It’s the wrong side of fear that kept me out._

_It’s the wrong inside that fills my mouth_

Bellamy morphs his part into a modified arpeggio line.

_Has left me without_

_In this darkness, I’ve given my ground._

_But no, this night will be mine._

_Will be mine._

Lexa holds out the last note as long as she can, and then Bellamy drops out, and she abandons her guitar. She closes her eyes, and sings the last line a capella.

_Esta noche será mia._

As she steadily repeats the line, the audience seems to sense the inevitable change in tone. The air in the venue electrifies. She repeats the line a final time, letting her final note ring out to the back.

She takes a deep breath, and she can feel the audience waiting for her to start. This is it. This moment is what they’ve been waiting for all night. A deep breath, and then she belts:

_Time is running out_

Bellamy, Anya, and Lincoln all make their presences known, backing Lexa’s strong belting with distorted guitars, a pounding bass line, and a tight drumbeat.

_It has all come crashing down_

The next verse starts and Bellamy takes over the vocals while Lexa takes over lead guitar, his voice a deep compliment to Lexa’s.

_Oh, God, are you listening now?_

_As this cancer dances through her and then takes a bow._

By the time they reach the chorus the crowd has come alive, screaming along with the lyrics and jumping to the beat with their hands all in the air, all reaching towards Lexa.

She takes the lead again from Bellamy for the chorus, but they swap lines back and forth, and in the later half of it, he takes the high harmonies with her.

_So many days I’ve been blind_

_I want to stop and rewind_

Anya is feeding off the crowd’s energy, headbanging in front of Lincoln, and Bellamy keeps jumping from his mic to stand next to Lexa and back again. It’s only the opener, but Heda does not know how to half ass.

By the time they reach the bridge, sweat has already begun to soak through Lincoln’s shirt. Bellamy and Lexa harmonize again, but he’s managed to pull his mic closer to her, so he can look at her while he does it.

_Words of mine are trite and simple shame._

_Still we find a place in everything._

_It's just to break the silence that has been crushing me._

But for the final verse, Lexa breaks away, belting out words like it’s for the very first time.

_Will you just hear me out?_

Bellamy takes it in stride, matching her with a harmony, note for note, almost singing as one, his eyes never leaving her face.

_You brought me death_

_And it’s everything I wanted_

_It’s the wrong side of fear that kept me out…_

As the final chord fades away, Lexa closes her eyes, only allowing herself a moment before Lincoln is setting the tempo for their next song.

The night is a blur after that. A blur of Lexa’s confident voice and Bellamy’s perfect warm harmonies, and Anya’s unrestrained screams when the song calls for it.

Sweat mats Bellamy’s hair and Lexa watches him shake it out as she croons _But this fool I’ve become can’t see straight to forget her_ and he joins her to belt out _The loneliness of loving someone can steal your eyes/ and spill the hope you had and you’re left to spin the why’s/by yourself and no one else, no one else._

Lexa blinks and they are halfway through their set. Lincoln has broken a pair of sticks, Bellamy is switching out guitars, and Anya is guzzling a bottle of water to soothe her throat.

Covered in a layer of sweat with her frizzy hair falling from her bun and into her face, Lexa knows there is nowhere else she would rather be as she takes the mic.

“How is everyone doing out there?”

The crowd cheers in response, and Lexa can’t help the wide smile that bursts onto her face.

“I’m going to take that as good.”

Laughter ripples through the crowd.

“Okay, well, I know a lot of our songs are pretty dark.” She pauses a beat. “Apparently, I’m broody?”

She hears Bellamy laughing behind her, and she turns back to glare at him, but she ends up motioning for his water. He tosses it to her, and she catches it gracefully. “Bellamy Blake, everyone.” She takes a drink before continuing. “Anyway, as I was saying before, I know our stuff is dark, but this next one is… _pretty_ happy.”

The crowd cheers at that, with a distinct “Fuck yes” coming from the back.

“Not that happy, Monty.”

“Get on with it!” Anya teases.

The crowd laughs again and Lexa takes it in stride. “My point is that this next song is about this band and all of you, the fans, and what you’ve all done for me over these past few years. Because without this band and without you guys, I really don’t know where I’d be.”

The crowd cheers and claps and Lexa nods, embarrassed. Anya saves Lexa from any further embarrassment. “Now, I feel like an asshole.”

“That’s because you are,” Bellamy says, smirking, safe in the knowledge that Anya won’t start a fight with him on stage.

Lexa reins them in. “Anyway, here is _The Note From Which a Chord is Built_.”

Lincoln kicks them off, and Bellamy comes in with the lead line, soon followed by Anya and Lexa. After a few bars, Lexa brings it home.

_You have always seen the best parts of me_

Lexa wasn’t lying when she said that this song was to the band and fans. By design, it didn’t have a harmony vocal line, because this was just Lexa. Singing to her family. The people who raised her up when she was down.

_Your hand is wrapped in mine_

_The Sun set for the last time_

It’s in this moment that Lexa knows it doesn’t really matter what happens when Clarke comes. They are either going to work things out or they aren’t. Things are either going to get better or they are going to stay the same. But regardless of all of that, Lexa will still have Bellamy and Lincoln and Anya. She will still have this band. She will still have these great and wonderful fans who write her lovely emails and letters about how her music saved them and seem to love her sight unseen.

She will still have this family. A family that exists completely outside of Clarke, which Lexa built for herself. No matter what happens: Lexa will be okay.

_Awake and alive for the first time_

_Joining as voices sing, together_

_The same song_

Still, as the song dissolves piece-by-piece—first with end of her vocal line, followed by Bellamy dropping out, then Anya, leaving only Lincoln keeping beat for a measure—in the moment of silence between the ending and the beginning of the next song in their set, Lexa can only think of how much she can’t wait to finally share this completely and totally separate part of herself _with_ Clarke.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for taking so long to update. RL writing was getting in the way.  
> Songs used/referenced in this fic:
> 
> Dear Death Parts 1&2  
> Hard Times  
> The Note From Which A Chord Is Built  
> all by Emery
> 
> The songs will always be Emery songs because that's the kind of sound I decided Heda has. Maybe check them out? Maybe not.
> 
> As always, come talk to me about this at nataliving.tumblr.com


	3. Studying Politics and Dealing in Percents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Heda's origin story, Bellamy is super worried all the time, Clarke arrives in LA, and Lexa can barely keep it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my small army of betas for putting up with my crap.

“I just don’t know if ‘The Weakest’ will actually play outside—acoustically speaking,” Bellamy grumbles over his coffee, dragging his fingers through his hair as he leans back from the kitchen table. “Like, it only works indoors if we know the venue really well anyway. Things are going to be different every day—”

“Okay, so what do you suggest we replace it with?” Lexa sighs, staring down at a messy list with more lines scratched out than lines that aren’t. Warped Tour starts in three weeks, and they still haven’t nailed down their set. Heda really only has experience with small indoor venues, so this whole “Gigantic Outdoor Music Festival” thing is new territory, and building a set for that is giving Bellamy and Lexa more trouble than they expected.

“Stylistically? ‘Shallow Seas’,” Bellamy answers, like it’s a no-brainer.

“Ah, yes, let’s debut that trash heap at Warped Tour in front of a bunch of scene kids and their parents. Perfect idea, Bell,” Lexa glares at him. “Be serious.”

“We gotta play it sometime. You’ve literally been holding onto it for years.”

“It’s not ready. Besides, it’s designed to have three vocal parts—”

“I’m sure Anya would be happy to—”

“Anya has been screaming for the past two years. I doubt she _can_ sing anymore, let alone want to.”

“Rude,” Anya chimes in, her voice still heavy with sleep, popping into the kitchen to get some coffee. “But true,” she adds before promptly exiting to the living room.

Lexa raises an I Told You So brow Bellamy’s way.

“Fine,” he concedes, “But I still think we should practice it.”

“For what purpose?” Lexa presses.

“I dunno. Who knows what Griffin will cause you to do.” He tries to say it lightly, but Lexa can tell he’s only half joking. She knows he’s gauging her reaction, so instead she ignores him in favor taking a slow drink of coffee.

He huffs after a moment, wanting to get back to the task at hand. “There’s always ‘Studying Politics’.”

Lexa looks up from her coffee and smirks at him. “We haven’t played that in years.”

“But it was our first baby. Seems like a safe bet.”

* * *

 

_They aren’t exactly friends—sometimes things are still painfully awkward between them—but she knows he knows that being here with him was the last place she thought she would end up, so they take their awkward moments in stride so she won’t be totally alone._

_Which is why Lexa is sprawled out on Bellamy’s bed writing furiously in a notebook, while he is procrastinating his Music Theory reading._

_The first week, she pointedly ignored his every request for her to have dinner with him or meet his friends. Part of her really appreciated his persistence, but there was no way it didn’t at least partially come from pity. Because, yeah, Bellamy lost his girlfriend, but they both knew that Lexa was the one who got her heart broken. Still, all Lexa wanted was a fresh start—however possible that could be at a school where the mascot was literally the Griffin—and hanging out with Bellamy didn’t really fit into that._

_But he didn’t stop offering, and after about a month, Lexa honestly couldn’t take it anymore. She was tired of her entire world consisting of small talk with her classmates and a weekly call home to Gustus where he would always ask if she was making friends and Lexa would always lie. She thought a fresh start would help, but it didn’t, and maybe she was weak for it, but then so be it. She found his table at dinner, ignored his surprised look, and sat down like it was completely normal, as she waited to be introduced to his friends._

_Now, if she didn’t have to go back to her dorm to sleep, she would be in Bellamy’s single all the time. Lexa is pretty sure Anya and Echo think she and Bellamy are an item, but they haven’t been brave enough to say anything yet, so Lexa isn’t going to clarify things for them. It doesn’t matter what they think._

_“Wait. Lexa, what the fuck?” Bellamy exclaims, looking from his computer screen to her and back again._

_“Told you the update sucks,” Lexa replies, not looking from her notebook._

_“No, not Tumblr. I just got an email about the campus poetry slam, and_ you _are listed as a performer?” Bellamy questions, still incredulous. “Since when?”_

_“Since I decided it might be good to try. You’re the one who is always like, ‘Lex, you have to put yourself out there,’” she replies, lowering her voice to mock him._

_“Okay, sure, but I expected to at least hear about your attempts from you and not an email blast.”_

_Lexa sits up to face him, closing her notebook, “Are you…actually mad?” She honestly can’t tell._

_Bellamy takes a deep breath, relaxing his face, “No. I’m just…surprised? Since when do you write poetry?”_

_“Um…” Lexa swallows, deciding whether or not to be honest. “May.”_

_“Oh.” Realization crashes through him. He pushes his unruly hair out of his face. “Is that why you didn’t tell me? Because you don’t want me to come? Because I want to go to support you, but if that’ll be weird—”_

_“No,” Lexa exclaims, surprising them both. “No, I want you there.”_

_“You sure?”_

_Lexa nods. “Yes.”_

_“Okay…then I’ll be there.”_

_“Good.”_

_Lexa turns back to her notebook and Bellamy leans back in his chair, falling back into his unproductivity._

_“Oh, and Blake?”_

_Bellamy sits forward, alert and ready for whatever she has to say. It’s pretty endearing._

_“Do your Theory reading.”_

_He slumps back, clearly disappointed, but closes his laptop anyway and reaches for his textbook before grumbling. “Aye, aye.”_

* 

_BVVVMP BVVVMP_

_Lexa’s phone buzzes, flashing in the darkness of her dorm room. Lexa rolls over, away from the light._

_BVVVMP BVVVMP_

_Her eight a.m. literature lecture is just in a few hours. She already got home late because Bellamy and Lincoln insisted on taking Lexa out for ice cream after the poetry slam even though she told them it was completely unnecessary and way too fatherly of them. But they would not be dissuaded, so she ultimately didn’t get to bed until after midnight. She is determined not to waste any time she should be sleeping on some pointless notification._

_BVVVVVVVVVMP BVVVVVVVVVMP BVVVVVVVVVMP BVVVVVVVVVMP_

_Lexa reaches blindly for the phone, pulling it to here ear._

_“Hello?”_

_“Let me up.” Bellamy’s voice filters through._

_She pulls the phone away, squinting to check the time. It’s 3:07 a.m., and her lecture is in less than five hours._

_“No.”_

_“Please, Lexa. It’s important.”_

_“Are you dying?”_

_“No—”_

_“It’s not that important.” Lexa pulls the phone away again, seconds from ending the call when she hears Bellamy’s muffled, distorted frantic scream._

_“It’s about your poem!”_

_Fifteen minutes later, Lexa is not in her bed asleep, but rather in the dorm lounge glaring at Bellamy as he tunes his guitar._

_“I fail to see how this has anything to do with my poetry,” Lexa grumbles._

_“You’ll see,” he assures her, tuning to harmonics, “I really couldn’t get it out my head so…”_

_He plays a chord to check the tuning before he starts counting himself off, bouncing his knee to keep time. It’s nothing but steady strumming for a bar, and Lexa almost leaves because she really does not have time for this, but then Bellamy starts to sing._

_“It’s like a pencil with erasers at both ends. I want it all but we’re dealing in percents.”_

_He’s singing her words. The words she stood up and proclaimed in front of the fifty or so people who attended the Campus Poetry Slam, measured and restrained because if she weren’t careful, she would have crumpled in front of everyone._

_Bellamy changes chords with an accented strum. “And these activities that you have engaged in, this is the politics of seeing you dance with him.”_

_He’s singing words she wrote about him. About watching him and Clarke at Prom. Words she could barely say on that stage tonight._

_“We begin with concluding remarks, pick up the pieces and examine the parts. Your words always cut when they’re cliché, but here’s my knife because I came for the buffet.”_

_The chord pattern changes and Bellamy stumbles. “Um, I think this next part could be the chorus.”_

_He restarts from where he left off, hardly looking at Lexa. But she doesn’t notice, completely perplexed by the display in front of her._

_“This is the way it goes, with you a part of it. Nervously saying words, that oh-so-tightly fit.”_

_She memorized the poem, so she knows what’s coming next. She can see where Bellamy is going, as strange as it is. And so, unbidden, she begins to harmonize with him on the next line._

_“A mark beneath the chin – ah, ah! I’ve caught you once again.”_

_He looks up at her, an honest smile lighting his face, as they continue._

_“It’s in the way you sell every word and phrase and leaving me to know how much the meaning weighs. Saying that but meaning this – ah, ah! Using hands for emphasis.”_

_Bellamy stops playing and beams at her. “That’s all I’ve got so far, but I figure I can work a second verse out of it. Maybe a bridge.” His smile lessens, slightly embarrassed, “Uh, but only if you’re okay with that.”_

_Lexa stares at him for a long moment, watching as his knee bounces, now keeping double time, and his hands subconsciously form around the strings of his guitar._

_“You know that was about watching you and Clarke at Prom, right?”_

_He nods, “It was pretty obvious, to me anyway.”_

_He’s so earnest and it doesn’t make any sense to Lexa. How is he not totally freaking out right now?_

_“Did you memorize it at the reading?” she asks instead, “Because that’s weird.”_

_He pulls out his phone, pulling up a video and handing it to her. “I recorded it. Because I thought that somebody should. I dunno. A first poetry reading can be a big deal right? But…after I got back to my dorm, it really wouldn’t leave me alone, and I…” He gestures to his guitar, “…had to work through it.”_

_Lexa nods but doesn’t say anything, focusing on Bellamy’s knee, bouncing about the same rhythm as her heart._

_“This isn’t okay, is it?” Bellamy deflates. He stands up, “I’ll, uh, I’m sorry I dragged you out of bed, I—”_

_Lexa stands up to block him, keeping her eyes to the ground. “I have more.”_

_“What?”_

_“More poems,” Lexa clarifies, finally meeting his gaze._

_“Really?”_

_Lexa nods, nervously. “I can go get them—”_

_“Now?”_

_“I’m up, aren’t I?”_

_“Okay.”_

_Lexa turns to leave as Bellamy sits back down. Just before she’s out of the lounge, he speaks up. “You sure you’re okay with this?”_

_She turns back to face him. “I don’t know. But, when you sang just now, it made more sense than when I was reciting it on stage, so…” she shrugs, and heads back upstairs to her dorm before Bellamy can say anything else._

* * *

 

“’Our first baby’. No wonder everyone on the internet thinks we’re dating,” Lexa teases, writing Studying Politics down on the list. 

“You have to admit, we’d make pretty cute kids,” Bellamy goads.

“I have literally never thought about it, so no, I won’t admit to that.”

“Seriously?”

“And you have?”

Bellamy shrugs. Lexa’s eyes widen. “You know how gay I am!”

“What?! No, I don’t think about _that_. Just like…genetically how…because sperm donation is a thing, and…”words fail him. “Forget I said anything.”

Lexa softens, realizing that Bellamy is literally the best thing that came out of life post-Clarke for the umpteenth time. “I think I’m supposed to be touched right now.”

“GROSSSSSSSS,” Anya screeches at them from the other room, breaking the moment.

Bellamy sighs, collecting himself, “Let’s just get back to this setlist, okay?”

Lexa shoves his shoulder with her own, “Finally. Now, what about I’m Not Here For Rage?”

Bellamy quirks an eyebrow at her. “You looking to show off, Commander?”

Lexa shrugs, “If she’s going to be here, I may as well have a little fun.”

Clarke is arriving in two days and Heda has a show the next day. It’s easier for Lexa to posture than to admit to how nervous she is. This _was_ her idea after all.

*

_Clarke_

_Hey just checking in._

_You’ll be picking me up_

_from the airport tomorrow_

_right?_

_Yeah, just me._

_I just know Bell’s not my_

_biggest fan right now_

_He’ll behave._

_I know, but still._

_I’m excited to see you though._ _:)_

 _I’m excited to have you here :)_

“Hey, Lex—”

Lexa snaps her head up from her phone, and her whole body flinches under her comforter like she’s been caught as Bellamy knocks on her doorframe after the fact. Bellamy notices her nerves immediately.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lexa answers, trying to nonchalantly shove her phone under her comforter. “What?”

Bellamy tries to relax his face into a neutral expression. “You all squared away for tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll be picking her up. We might get food after, if she’s hungry.”

Bellamy nods, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Do you want me to get the air mattress out of storage, or will she be fine on the couch?”

Lexa hesitates, biting her lip, and that’s all the answer Bellamy needs.

“Whatever. Torture yourself for all I care,” he says, turning to leave.

“I honestly didn’t even think of it, Bell—”

Bellamy whips around to stand in the doorway again. “I get that you think you have to do this, but she wasn’t the one who was there for you while ripped yourself apart for her—”

“Please don’t lord your friendship over me, Bellamy Blake.”

He deflates, looking understandably scolded. “I didn’t mean—I just want this tour to go well.”

Lexa gives him a sympathetic smile. “And it will. I’ll even have my muse on the road with me this time.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “That’s not funny.”

“Pretend it is and go shave.”

“What?! I’m not shaving for Clarke.”

Lexa folds her legs underneath her and folds her hands in plea. “Then don’t do it for, Clarke. Do it for me.”

“You loved my beard!” Bellamy defends.

“I hated your fuckboy beard and never wish to see it again.”

Anya yells from the living room, “Same,” and Lincoln follows up with, “It’s true, bro,” from his room.

Bellamy glares and Lexa’s smirk. “Deflection,” he whispers, completely serious.

“Goodnight, Blake.”

He makes his way to the bathroom, and Lexa’s phone vibrates not a second later. It’s Clarke. Obviously.

_Clarke_

_Done packing! FINALLY._

_I tried to pack as light as I could._

_I’m sure you did fine._

_I don’t want my stuff to_

_get in the way!_

_You won’t be in the way._

_Lol Thanks._

_I’m glad we’re doing this._

_Me too._

_Goodnight Lexa!_

_Goodnight Clarke._

It was a good couple of hours before Lexa actually went to sleep. Maybe that should have been an indication of how this was going to go.

*

The plan is for Lexa to pick up Clarke from the airport at 1pm, get lunch, drop Clarke off back at Lexa’s town house, and meet back at Heda’s studio space for rehearsal.

So naturally, that all goes to hell.

Clarke’s flight is delayed two hours. That is more of an inconvenience than a problem, pushing back their rehearsal time. However, when Lexa pulls into the cellphone lot to wait for Clarke’s call that she’s ready to be picked up, Clarke texts her to tell her that there was a problem with the flight’s luggage, and that it might be awhile before she’s actually ready to go.

Lexa weighs the pros and cons of actually paying to park and walking to wait with Clarke. Pro: she’s not in her car anymore. Con: she has to make awkward small talk with Clarke for however long. Realization: She will be making awkward small talk with Clarke with the next few months.

She elects to wait in the car, if only to stave off the inevitable. And maybe to remind herself that she actually wants this.

Half an hour later, Clarke texts Lexa that she’s ready, so Lexa braves her way to Terminal 7, narrowly avoiding colliding with various shuttle services and taxicabs several times.

When she first catches a glimpse of Clarke waiting at the curb with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a large patterned Vera Bradley duffle slung over the other, she nearly rear ends the car in front of her.

She pulls her CRV up the curb and clicks on her hazards before jumping out and running around to help Clarke with her luggage. At first, Lexa is all business—quickly loading Clarke’s duffle and small suitcase into the back seat. But when she turns to check if she’s loaded everything else, can’t help but take in the sight of _Clarke_. Her hair is pulled back in a messy loose braid, clad in a worn Taylor Swift tee and a pair of slightly too big Columbia sweats, with a bright smile on her face. Lexa barely registers what she’s doing until Clarke is pressed close to her and wrapping her arms around Lexa in return.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi,” Clarke responds.

They pull apart, but Clarke keeps Lexa’s hands in hers, and for a second they just stand there—tentatively smiling at each other.

In her periphery, Lexa sees a terminal staff member heading their way, surely to tell them to move along. She drops Clarke’s hands, clearing her throat. “We should…” she says gesturing to the car.

“Right,” Clarke nods. Lexa stiffly opens the passenger door for Clarke, waiting to make sure that she’s all the way in before closing the door and crossing over to get in the driver’s seat.

They are both silent as Lexa navigates exiting the airport campus. Lexa’s hand drops from the steering wheel and flexes on her thigh, aching to reach for Clarke, as stupid as it is. But Clarke is _here_ in Los Angeles with her. And that knowledge is almost too much. Still, Lexa shoves her hand under her thigh and forces herself to think about safer things like driving and lunch. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Clarke admits.

“Ready to try In-N-Out?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lexa can see Clarke bite down a smile.

In-N-Out is much more crowded than Lexa expected, and they are very much not in and out, but they still aren’t running too behind schedule.

“How was your flight?” Lexa asks for lack of anything else to say, when they are finally seated with their food.

“Fine. I got a window seat, so that was good. But the kid in the middle seat kept leaning over me to look out the window and that was…awkward.”

Lexa grimaces. “I bet. Was he like that the whole flight?”

“Yeah. Even when I fell asleep. He woke me up a few times.” Clarke says, taking a bite out of her double-double.

“Gross. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. This burger makes up for it,” she says, smirking, then taking another bite.

“Is it everything you dreamed it would be?” Lexa teases lightly.

Clarke shrugs. “It’s definitely good, but it’s no Shake Shack.”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to take me there when the tour runs through New York.” It’s flirtatious and out of her mouth before she can think. “Um, if we have time, anyway,” she backpedals.

But Clarke is unphased. “Deal.”

Lexa can’t help but smile because this is almost normal. Or what was normal. Her heart twists when she realizes that she feels almost at home.

They finish up eating and are neck-deep in traffic on the 110 ten minutes later. Having exhausted all the light topics of conversation, the car becomes unbearably silent. Lexa’s hand still aches to reach for Clarke’s so she busies it by filtering through radio stations, ultimately settling on an alt-rock station and a guitar riff fills the car.

“Have you ever heard yourself on the radio?”

Lexa grins. “We’re not exactly radio friendly.”

“What, are you too hardcore?” Clarke jokes.

“Pretty much.”

Lexa almost asks if Clarke has listened to their music, but she’s not sure what answer she would want to hear, so she decides against it.

Traffic begins to crawl at a snail’s pace and Lexa’s stomach sinks. In the distance she begins to see the red and blue flash of cop cars and traffic being funneled from four lanes into one. “Crap.”

“What?”

“They are closing three lanes. There must have been an accident.”

“Can you see if everyone’s okay?”

“No,” Lexa sighs. “I hate to be insensitive, but this probably means you’ll have to tag along with me to rehearsal instead of getting dropped off.”

Clarke smiles again, this time a little less tentative than before. “That’s okay. I’m gonna be hearing you guys play a lot in the next few months anyway. May as well start today.”

Lexa just wants to kiss her, but instead she replies, “May as well,” and doesn’t look Clarke in the eye for the rest of the trip.

*

As soon as Lexa pushes open the double doors to the rehearsal studio, Anya is yelling.

She’s leaned up against her half-stack, looking as smug as ever. Lexa doesn’t miss Bellamy slipping a twenty in her back pocket.

“THERE SHE IS, OUR FEARLESS LEADER.”

“Anya, please—” It’s a halfhearted protest as Lexa gets out her guitar.

“FINALLY MANAGED TO TEAR YOURSELF AWAY, HUH?”

“Anya—”

“BECAUSE WE CAN TOTALLY WAIT—”

And then Clarke walks through the door. “Sorry she’s late. Some kind of accident had the freeway backed up.”

Lexa can’t stop the grin that spreads across her face as she takes in the surprised expressions of her bandmates. She notices Bellamy snatch the twenty back out of Anya’s pocket and makes a mental note to slap him later.

Anya recovers quickly enough, her face becoming a cool mask as Clarke approaches. Clarke politely smiles and holds out her hand.

“I’m Clarke. I don’t think we had a chance to introduce ourselves at the—” she bites her lip.“Back in Virginia.”

Anya fixes Clarke with a cool glare before speaking through gritted teeth. “That was intentional.”

Clarke’s face falls, but she takes it in stride. “Bet you really hate that we’re going to be spending the next three months together then.”

Before anything can escalate, Lincoln pulls them back on track. “Okay, enough. You’re both badass blondes.” He takes his seat behind his set. “Can we practice now?”

Anya shoulders on her bass and switches on her halfstack, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s. “Good to go.”

Lexa grabs Clarke’s arm and leads her into the sound booth. “You can hang out here until we head back.” She motions to a couple buttons on the console. “That will let you listen to us, and that will block us out…for the most part.” Lexa shrugs sheepishly. “We get pretty loud.”

Clarke nods, but she’s not really paying attention. Lexa gently nudges Clarke’s chin to look up at her. “She’ll come around. She’s just protective.”

“She seems a little more than protective, Lexa,” Clarke replies softly.

“She just doesn’t know you yet,” Lexa assures. Which is half true. Anya is intimately familiar with Clarke. At least, familiar with the ways Clarke has hurt Lexa, but that’s—

In the past. Sort of. Not really.

“I have to—”

“Yeah, go,” Clarke smiles, but it barely reaches her eyes. “I’ll be fine. Don’t take offense if I fall asleep though. I’m a little jetlagged.”

“I won’t.”

Clarke shoos Lexa out the door, and Lexa makes a beeline for her guitar. She begins to tune when Anya speaks. “Did the princess get her feelings hurt?”

Lexa rounds on Anya. “Shut up, Anya. Take a minute to remind yourself that you don’t actually know Clarke at all.”

Before Anya can respond, Lexa turns to Lincoln. “Same set we talked about this morning?”

“Yeah.”

Bellamy reaches for Lexa, trying to calm her down. “Lexa, she’s just—”

She shakes him off. “I know what she is. I know how concerned everyone is. But I would appreciate it if you would trust me.” She turns back to her mic, slipping in her earbuds. “Set for ‘Walls’.”

Bellamy’s eyes widen and he protests, “I thought you said we were opening with—”

“And we are,” Lexa asserts. “But set for ‘Walls’.”

Lexa clenches her jaw and Bellamy reluctantly steps away, readying his pedal board.

Then she turns back to Lincoln. “Kick us off.”

*

They leave the studio five hours later after loading all of their gear for the next night’s show. They part ways again, Lexa and Clarke and in her CRV and Bellamy, Anya, and Lincoln in Lincoln’s Jeep, for the drive home.

Clarke hadn’t left the booth at any point during the rehearsal, and when Lexa popped her head in to tell her that it was time to go, all she did was nod.

She remains quiet for most of the ride back to the townhouse, and Lexa keeps watching her in the corner of her eye.

But then, “I didn’t listen to you guys today.”

Lexa isn’t really sure what to make of it, so all she can offer is, “okay”.

“I was going to at first, but then…” Clarke trails off and Lexa turns to look at her, careful to keep checking on the highway in front of her.

“They really don’t want me here, don’t they?” Clarke asks, her voice cracking.

Lexa can’t really find it in herself to lie. “Lincoln is glad you’re here. He thinks this will be good.” ‘For us, for me,’ is left unsaid.

“But Bellamy and Anya don’t.”

The only way for Lexa to respond to that is to begin a conversation she is sure she will have with Clarke _eventually_ in the next three months—maybe many times—but she can’t really believe that she’s going to start it now, the first day that Clarke is here, when all she really wants to do is go home and order copious amounts of Chinese food.

But here she is.

“They are worried that you will…distract me from the tour. Because of our…” Lexa really wishes there was a word better suited for what she and Clarke are, “History.”

“Are you worried about that?”

“A little.”

She waits for Clarke to ask why. Why a three years' past relationship that never really was would be a distraction. Didn’t Clarke make herself abundantly clear?

But she doesn’t. Instead, she says, “I don’t want to distract you.”

“I know.” Maybe they can try this again later when Anya hasn’t just attacked Clarke for existing. When things are less raw. If that ever happens.

 They pull into the driveway and Lexa helps Clarke carry her luggage inside. True to her impulses, she does convince everyone that ordering large quantities of lo mein, sweet and sour pork, and chicken teriyaki is the best course of action after a long rehearsal, and when the food arrives, the atmosphere seems to relax a little.

After Clarke stifles her fifth yawn, Lexa gets up to lead Clarke back to her room, but Bellamy is one step ahead. “I made the couch up for Clarke.”

It’s casual enough, but Clarke seems to get the message immediately, stepping away from Lexa, and smiling at her ex. “Thanks, Bellamy.”

So instead, Lexa leads Clarke to the couch, and decides to forget to slap Bellamy later.

*

“I think you will like our opening act. They’re going on Warped too. Much more poppy than us, but they’re good guys and really have some talent.”

Lexa has been bouncing off the walls since she woke up this morning. She woke up before everyone, starting coffee and making pancakes simply because she could not stay in her bed any longer.

And twenty minutes later, when a groggy Clarke Griffin wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee, Lexa didn’t even bother to hamper her beaming smile.

So now, with Clarke in the passenger seat and five boxes of t-shirts in the back, she is talking a mile a minute. “And, I dunno, tell me if you don’t like this, but I was thinking you might want to watch the show from our merch table. I’ll introduce you to Pharmboy’s merch girl, Maya, when we get there. She and Jasper are dating. I just figure it would be better than you watching awkwardly in the wings, you know?”

“I think I’d like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so I was also thinking that maybe you could be my—I mean, our merch girl for the tour. Because otherwise I think you might get bored, but maybe I’m being presumptuous. I don’t—”

Clarke puts her hand over Lexa’s and she immediately shuts down.

“Lexa, how much coffee have you had today?” Clarke teases.

“Enough,” Lexa defends. But in truth she was just so nervous. Clarke was going to be in the audience tonight. What if she hates them? What if she realizes what all of the songs are about and feels weird? But also equally terrifying: What if she really likes them and _doesn’t_ realize what all of the songs are about?

It was almost too much for Lexa to contemplate. Especially with Clarke’s hand on hers.

“I think it would be cool to do that. Connect with your fans and stuff,” Clarke says, letting go of Lexa’s hand.

“Well, that’s good, but when Bellamy banishes you there, try to act a little disappointed.”

Clarke laughs. “I’ll be sure to pout a little.”

True to her word, when they got to the venue, Bellamy immediately relegated Clarke to setting up the merch table instead of hanging out back stage with them, and Clarke did pout. But then Lexa introduced her to Maya and everything was well.

Throughout the sound check, Lexa's eyes kept wandering to Clarke. Clarke helping Maya set up the shirt display. Clarke setting out stacks of CDs. Clarke making Maya laugh.

Thankfully, Monty, Pharmboy’s frontman, was the only one who seemed to notice.

“New girlfriend?” he asks, cheerily.

Lexa laughs. “No.”

“Potential new girlfriend then,” he amends with a wink. Even though Lexa’s been strung tight all day, Monty’s teasing only puts her at ease.

“No, more like, ex…old friend.”

“Ohhh,” Monty says as if everything had just become clear. “That’s her then.”

“’Her’?” Lexa presses.

“Your muse. I used to think it was Costia, but then Bellamy said you started writing way before you met her, so,” he shrugs. “I figured it had to be someone else.”

“What makes you so sure I write about the same person?” Monty looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is. “Come on, do you write about the same person?” Lexa defends.

“No, I don’t write our songs, I just make them work. But Miller does, and he does write about the same person.” The implied ‘me’ from Monty is not lost on Lexa. And the comparison Monty is making between his relationship with Miller and Lexa’s maybe relationship with Clarke isn’t either.

But Lexa still has to shut it down. “Shouldn’t you be on voice rest?”

“Shouldn’t you?” he retorts.

Lexa sighs. There is no winning with Monty. He’s too smart. “Well, if you’re going to theorize about our relationship, you should at least go introduce yourself.”

“Won’t you introduce me?” Monty taunts. And Lexa wants to—there’s nothing more she wants than to revel in showing off her new life to Clarke. And making sure that Clarke feels like she can be a part of it. But she’s going to perform in a few hours and the last thing she needs is to be drunk on new possibilities with Clarke.

“I actually do need to be on voice rest,” she answers, “so knock yourself out.”

He winks again and leaves, and Lexa finds a place back stage to hunker down and wait until it’s time be Heda.

*

Two hours later, Lexa can’t take it anymore. Because Clarke is right there and Lexa’s convinced herself that she was being dramatic—a quick check in with Clarke is not going to derail her for the rest of the evening. She’s not _that_ much of a mess. In fact, she’s _not_ a mess. She’s a kickass frontwoman of a post-hardcore metal band and she can fucking handle talking to her—to Clarke.

So, halfway through Pharmboy’s set, Lexa sneaks out to the floor.

Clarke looks particularly luminous, standing next to Maya at the merch table, as the lights of Pharmboy’s presets splash against her skin, purple, blue, and green. Lexa almost doesn’t want to approach because she doesn’t want the smile on Clarke’s face to twist into the strained version she’s been using since she landed.

But Lexa should want that, shouldn’t she? She should want to remind Clarke of the hurt she’s wrought. That’s what scorned lovers do, after all—exact revenge simply by living a better life. One would think, considering that she had spent the last two years becoming a rockstar, that would be Lexa’s exact intention. Except it never has been.

In fact, Lexa’s only intention was to find a way to stop hurting.

And now, she doesn’t. Now, she wants to work on feeling happy.

“How do you like them?” she says, leaning into Clarke’s ear. Clarke jumps, but her smile only falters for a moment before returning to it’s natural brightness when she sees the smile on Lexa’s face. Monty croons out the last note of the song, and it becomes easier to talk for a few seconds as the band switches out some guitars.

“Don’t you have a show to get ready for?”

“I have a few minutes,” Lexa smirks. “Answer the question.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and Lexa’s heart skips a beat. “Yes, I like them,” she leans a little closer to Lexa. “Are they going on tour with us?”

Lexa’s brain short-circuits a little at the mention of “us”. Her mouth goes dry, and before she can work through it to answer, Monty is speaking into the mic.

“Okay, okay, okay. Everybody still doing okay out there?” he lifts his hand to his forehead and peers into the crowd. He’s met with a resounding cheer, and Clarke gets jostled even closer to Lexa. She waits for Clarke to move away, and her heart begins to race when she doesn’t.

“Fantastic. We’re gonna take things down just a notch—just a notch!—alright?”

The crowd cheers again and Monty turns to Jasper to kick them off with a few strong strums of his guitar. Harper and Miller join in a few bars later, and then finally Monty grabs ahold of the mic and begins.

_Joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of ‘best friends’_

_We’re the kids who feel like dead ends._

Lexa can feel Clarke take a steadying breath beside her and for the love of God wishes she could do the same, but her heart keeps hammering against her chest and she’s all out of breath.

_And I want be known for my hits not just my misses. I took a shot and didn’t even come close._

She directs her focus to the stage—to Miller staring at Monty with rapt attention, almost lustful—instead of the barely there brushing of Clarke’s hand against hers. It’s not even crowded by the merch table, but Lexa is sweating.

The beat changes as Monty transitions into the chorus with Jasper harmonizing with him.

_And the record won't stop skipping, and the lies just won't stop slipping, and besides my reputation's on the line_

Lexa can feel Clarke’s eyes on her, but she can’t bring herself to look her way. Instead she watches as Miller leans into Monty as he belts out the rest of the chorus. Lexa fights to remain still as she feels Clarke hook her pinky around her own. Instead she focuses on how Miller comes to life on stage in a way he never is off of it.

Time stops when Clarke’s hand entwines with her own and Monty croons out the last verse.

_I’m hopelessly hopeful, you’re just hopeless enough, but we never had it at all._

“Lexa.” She tells herself that it’s Monty’s voice—not Clarke’s—that gives her chills. But Monty isn’t the one she’s swallowing and turning to as he goes into the last chorus.

In her periphery, she can see Maya pointedly turning away from them, and that should be enough to make her walk away, but it’s not. Because Clarke is pulling her closer and looking at her _exactly_ like she used to before. Before Bellamy, before Prom, before Heda. And it would be so easy to just—

The song ends. Air rushes into Lexa’s lungs, and she blinks hard and she takes two steps back from Clarke, who looks like she knows exactly how much they almost fucked up. She doesn’t, but at least it’s something.

“Lexa, I—”

“Just two more and then the band you are all really here to see, I’m sure—Heda!” Monty bellows into the mic, further interrupting everything.

Lexa clears her throat and nods. “Duty calls.”

It’s meant to lighten the mood, but Clarke still looks like she has something to say. So she quickly turns and leaves, not giving her the chance.

Backstage, Lexa is immediately met with Bellamy. “Where the hell were you?”

“Not now, Blake,” Lexa says, pushing past him to the chair she left her stuff on so she can put on her warpaint. He follows her.

“You were with Clarke, weren’t you?”

“I said not now.”

He ignores her. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. She’s got you completely unfocused—”

Lexa rounds on him, her voice deathly quiet. “You _do not_ want to start something with me, right now, when we are meant to be on stage in fifteen minutes. Yes, I was with Clarke. No, that isn’t any of your business. And if you question my focus one more time, I swear, Bellamy Blake, you will regret it.”

Bellamy holds her gaze for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But…maybe don’t cut it so close next time?”

Lexa sighs, calming herself. He does have a point. She shouldn’t have gone to see Clarke. At least, not this close to going on stage. And as much as she protests, Clarke is getting under her skin. After all, they did almost…

Kiss. At the Merch Table. In front of Maya. Tonight.

But now Lexa’s going to go up on that stage and sing about how Clarke broke her heart.

“Alright. I won’t,” Lexa relents. “I have to get ready.” She steels herself, smiling at Bellamy. “See you out there.”

He rolls his eyes and grins, absolutely against his will. “Aye, aye, Commander.”

*

It feels uncaring to say that Lexa doesn’t know how many shows Heda has done at this point. Like she doesn’t appreciate how far the band has come or how dedicated their fans have been.

But tonight when Lexa steps out on that stage, in every way that matters, it is the first time. Because this time, Clarke is watching.

Lexa can hear the crowd chanting their name, and her heart is racing because Clarke is probably chanting with them. The others have taken their places on stage and it is time for her to make her entrance.

And for a second, Lexa is back at William and Mary’s poetry slam, and she’s eighteen and not sure how she’s going to say all the things that are ripping her apart to get out.

 _“HEDA. HEDA. HEDA.”_ The crowd grows louder and more restless with each passing moment. The time is now.

Lexa steps out onto the stage, taking long, deliberate strides to the mic. She holds up her hand like she has done countless times before. She takes a deep breath, and—

Sees Clarke smiling back at her.

So maybe this is how that conversation they are supposed to have is going to go. Maybe they won’t talk, but Lexa will look directly at Clarke as she sings about all the different ways Clarke broke her heart, and somehow that will work everything out.

“Hello, everyone. Let’s begin.”

The crowd erupts, Lincoln kicks them off, and Lexa’s eyes never leave Clarke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no update. I apologize! In general, RL writing takes priority over fic writing.
> 
> Songs used in this fic:
> 
> Studying Politics by Emery  
> I've Got A Dark Alley and A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song) by Fall Out Boy
> 
> [Executive Decision: Pharmboy = Fall Out Boy in this fic - Blame Jackie for that.]
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr.


	4. I’m Not Here For Rage, I’m Here For Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa bares it all on stage, everyone gets drunk and makes bad decisions, and Clarke shocks Lexa--twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natural Light is a really shitty beer. Don't believe anyone who tells you otherwise.

_They have always had to keep things under the radar. If someone asks, they aren’t dating. If someone asks, they are just really close friends. If someone asks, the wife thing is just a joke._

_Clarke isn’t ready and Lexa respects that because everyone is different, and she loves Clarke._

_She really, honest to God, loves Clarke._

_She loves the way she smiles, the way her eyes droop, heavy with sleep after a night spent together. She loves her laugh, loud and unabashed, but also her tiny, restrained giggle when they share an inside joke. She loves the way her forehead creases when she’s doing her Calculus homework that Lexa will most likely have to go back over with her because Calculus is just not Clarke’s forte._

_But God help her, she loves the stolen moments too. Despite herself, she loves the way Clarke’s lips feel on hers, soft but desperate, like time is running out. She loves the way the skin of her stomach feels against her guitar-calloused fingers. She loves the way she growls her name when Lexa nips at her neck._

_But right in this moment, in the safety of her bedroom where they are alone and Lexa is allowed to love Clarke exactly as she means to, Lexa loves the way Clarke touches her—careful and reverent. Lexa loves the way Clarke kisses down her stomach—each kiss a promise. Lexa loves the way Clarke takes her—slow and gentle until she can barely breathe._

*

In retrospect, Lexa should have known that the red plaid button down part of the “red plaid button down over a black silk muscle shirt with black ripped skinny jeans” ensemble was going to end up tied around her waist. It’s always hotter than she remembers on stage, no matter how many times she has been under the lights.

Lincoln had long since ripped off his tank and tied it around his head like a sweat band.  Halfway through, Anya had tossed her tee into the crowd, in favor of finishing out the set in her sports bra. Bellamy hasn’t abandoned any of his clothing yet, but Lexa at least partly suspects that’s because his shirt is glued to his body via perspiration.

Bellamy motions to her between songs for the bottle of water they’re sharing, so she tosses it to him. “Last one,” she mouths.

He rolls his eyes. “We’ve still got the encore. Your moment of Heda glory,” he counters.

“Only if they call us back.”

Bellamy scoffs. “You think Clarke isn’t going to lead that charge? Give yourself some credit, Lex.”

“QUIT YAMMERING,” Anya yells from the other side of the stage. Lexa shakes her head, but takes her place back in front of the mic. Quickly checking to see that everyone is on the same page, she turns her attention back to the crowd.

“It seems that we’re on our last one.”

“NO!” resounds from the audience.

Lexa continues to deadpan. “Unfortunately, that is the case—”

“NO!” comes again.

She grabs the mic and pulls it closer to her, like she’s sharing a secret. “Well, we do have an encore prepared. I’m just saying.”

The crowd begins to cheer, but she cuts them off. “But for now…”

Lexa steps away from the mic, grabbing hold of her guitar as Bellamy cranks the feedback on his keyboard.

The recognition is immediate and the crowd cannot be contained. It’s one of their oldest songs. Anya kicks them off with a scream, and the crowd is right there with her.

_Are you listening?_

Lincoln brings the rest of them in on the downbeat, as Lexa takes over the hook, with Anya’s screams acting as a harsh harmony. There’s no way in hell she can actually sing anymore.

They pull back a bit, and Lexa finds Clarke in the crowd before she starts the first verse. Bellamy joins her to harmonize in the latter half as they head into the chorus, alternating lines.

_You've got the map,_

_Come get to me._

_These knuckles break,_

_Before they bleed._

Lexa can hear the crowd singing along, she see the hundreds of other people in the venue, but right now, she feels like she’s singing only to Clarke.

_Tear out these veins that own my heart._

_This skin that wears your lasting marks._

_I've built these walls come get to me, come get to me_

Lexa’s eyes never leave Clarke, and somehow Bellamy is already finishing his solo, the song is over, and Lexa is breathless. She takes a minute to compose herself, pulling off her guitar, and placing it in the stand. She means to simply walk of the stage like she always does, but she can’t help but crane her neck for one last look at Clarke to gauge her reaction before the encore.

She doesn’t look _upset_ , and she’s still there, so Lexa takes that as a good sign as she’s ushered into the wings.

At first, she can’t hear anything but the murmuring of the crowd. But a beat later:

“Encore!” Clarke yells. Lexa hears it plain as day. Rationally, it could have been any other vaguely feminine voice in the crowd, but Lexa knows that it’s Clarke.

Not moment later, the rest of the crowd takes up chanting.

“ _ENCORE, ENCORE, ENCORE!_ ”

Bellamy catches Lexa’s eye and winks. “Told you so,” he says, getting up and following Lincoln back on stage. Anya nudges Lexa with her shoulder as she follows them. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

Lexa grins and shakes her head as she trails behind Anya, but she flexes and clenches her hands, trying desperately to get rid of her nerves.

They retake their positions on stage, and, as Lexa shoulders her guitar, Bellamy leans into her.

“Hey. You _are_ Heda,” he whispers.

That is all it takes. Lexa takes a deep breath, and steps up to the mic.

“How absolutely unexpected,” Lexa tells the crowd, grinning, and they cheer right back. “What do you think, Bellamy? Do we have one more?”

Bellamy leans into his mic, “Yeah, I think we’ve got one more.”

“Alright, so we’ve got one more for you all. And all of you have been so lovely. Give it up for yourselves.”

The crowd cheers again, and Lexa uses the time to check in with Lincoln. He gives her a nod.

“Yes, you’ve all been so nice. This really is our last one tonight, but please do stop by our merch table in the back.” Lexa points directly to Clarke. “We’ve got a new merch girl and her name is Clarke.”

Lexa steps away from the mic, nodding to Lincoln. He kicks them off, and then Anya is screaming again. Lexa and Bellamy start in perfect sync, thrusting their bodies with each hit, as heavy distortion fills the venue through the hook.

One, two, three, four, one, and Bellamy slams his foot down on his pedal board to transition into the verse, stepping up to his mic.

_You’re too late to decide_

_This can’t go right_

_Cause I got this tonight_

Lexa’s guitar squeals as she drags her hand down the neck before singing her part over Bellamy.

_I wondered how hurt you’d be after you read this_

_Did it even speed your heartbeat or make you nervous?_

_I need say this: the best parts were hush, hush_

_The best parts were pure luck_

_But I swore that this time_

It took her a minute to find Clarke in the crowd again, but she finds her a little closer to stage than she had been before, eyes wide, slightly open in—shock? awe? wonder?

If Lexa hadn’t have been Heda right now, she would have lost her breath, her nerve. But she is Heda, and she is starting the conversation right now.

So she finds Clarke’s big beautiful blue eyes that she loved—loves—so much, and croons into the mic.

_I was more than your hook up_

Bellamy takes over the vocals in the chorus, so Lexa can escape. She doesn’t have to watch the fall out of her words (or lack therof—which would be worse?) wash on Clarke’s face. Instead, she focuses on the back wall when she comes back in. Cowardly, maybe, but so had been Clarke.

Anya screams again, this time sharing some of the damage with Lincoln, and Lexa almost doesn’t want to look down at Clarke again when she starts the next verse. But she does because if this is the only way they can talk, she wants to use it. No matter how explicit. Again she sings over Bellamy’s underlay, and tries to block out the fact that she knows he’s watching her.

_Your penny thoughts of leaving together from this town_

_Convinced the girl inside me to let her guard down_

_You played me so well, I didn’t notice when the floor fell_

_From underneath my feet_

It’s strange. They’ve played this song plenty of times. And never, not once, did Lexa think that it was too personal. But under these lights, in front of this crowd—in front of Clarke—she feels her skin shrink and shiver as memories of Clarke against her, touching her, invade her mind.

_I thought we were floating_

This time she doesn’t look away from Clarke, wanting desperately to see if the same might be happening to her. Her eyes look glassy, but it could just be the lights, her skin looks flushed, but it could just be the lights—okay this isn’t working.

Anya screams one more time, and Lexa knows that now is not the time to be focusing on Clarke (and yet. Always and yet).

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and when she opens them, she focus again on the back wall. Poised and in control—like Heda has always been. Breathe in. Breathe out. And into the mic.

_Is this the world passing by?_

_Or is it turning, turning?_

_This is the first time that I have ever looked inside myself_

Bellamy harmonizes with her for the latter half of the breakdown. If she wanted to be explicit, now would be the time, but Lexa can’t stop looking at the wall. Still, it’s like she’s outside of her body, because she can feel herself nearly sobbing into the mic.

_All this time the world I knew was turning, turning_

_All this time that I loved you, you were turning, turning away_

She snaps away from the mic, stomping down her pedal board before hoisting one leg up on her monitor.  The crowd is screaming, and thank God for muscle memory because her fingers know this solo better than she does.

But here she is Heda, and these people love her. The notes start to resonate in her chest, as her mouth forms the same thin line it always does when she’s playing something complicated, and as her fingers work their way up through the neck, she almost forgets that Clarke is less than twenty feet away.

Yes, she remembers how it felt to be with Clarke—in excruciating detail, weightless and heavy on her heart—and as the final note of her solo reverberates throughout the venue, she finds Clarke’s eyes and she is sure Clarke does too.

Her eyes look glassy and her skin looks flushed, and Lexa knows it isn’t the lights. She holds her gaze for a beat longer before backing up to her mic, breaking into a smile as she thanks the crowd for the night.

*

Lexa’s blood is buzzing. Her body always thrums after a show, but tonight it feels as though her blood is racing through her veins with the excitement. Her hands are shaking and she can’t stop smiling even though she is not entirely sure why. Her mouth just keeps bouncing back to the shape, and she feels light and quick like she could suddenly leap and be flying.

When she closes the trunk of Lincoln’s Jeep, Clarke is there and Lexa is only ninety-nine percent sure she didn’t just suddenly appear. But only ninety-nine percent.

“Oh! Hi. Um,” Lexa drags her fingers through her hair. “Do you need help loading stuff into my car? Jasper said he was going to help you, but I guess—”

“No, he did. We got everything,” Clarke says quietly.

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

Lexa zeroes in on Clarke’s hands, fiddling at the hem of her shirt, and for a second she feels comforted by the fact that they are both nervous.

“So—”

“You guys were great. I mean, I always knew you were a good player, but usually I was the one who would sing. And I knew Bell was good and I knew Lincoln played, but—”

Lexa watches Clarke bite her bottom lip, knowing that she’s struggling.

“You’re amazing, Lexa.”

It is plain, but sincere, Lexa knows, so she smiles because she missed hearing Clarke Griffin’s particular brand of praise—breathless, but sure like she’s never been sure of anything else.

So she nods, grinning, and replies softly, “Thank you.”

Still, as she leads Clarke back to her CRV, Lexa wonders if it really was just the lights.

*

It is a tradition: After every show that Pharmboy plays with Heda, everyone heads back to the townhouse for pizza and beer (and maybe something a little harder, if they had it). As Lexa receives the pizza delivery guy and signs for five pizzas and an order of fried pickles, she wonders briefly what the tour will do for their tradition since they will technically be playing together every night. Surely, they will have to make a new tradition. Lexa wouldn’t be able to keep this up for three months.

After they load up their plates, everyone finds a place in the living room while Monty writes up the rules for a game of Kings and Jasper shuffles and spreads out a deck of cards around a can of PBR on the coffee table.

Lexa ends up between Clarke and Maya, with Lincoln on Clarke’s other side, and for the first time since Clarke arrived, Lexa feels at ease next to Clarke. But that might have had something to do with the two beers she chugged when she got home. Maybe.

“I presume we’re all familiar with the basics of the classic party game of gentlemen and scholars, Kings?” Monty asks with a flourish, settling next to Miller.

Everyone but Clarke groans at Monty’s hyperbole. “I’m not actually,” she says tentatively, in a way that causes Lexa to balk.

“Party Animal Clarke Griffin has never played a game of Kings?” comes out of her mouth before she can stop herself.

Clarke grins right back at her, and it’s then that Lexa knows that she’s sunk. She’s tipsy and Clarke Griffin knows it.

“Octavia was always more into games of skill. Flip cup, beer pong, quarters. That sort of thing.”

Miller is the one to explain. “It’s pretty simple. Draw a card, do the rule that goes with that card,” he gestures to the notepad Monty was holding, “and slip the card underneath the tab of the can. If your card opens the beer, you have to drink it and replace it with a new one.”

“I think I can handle that,” Clarke smirks, and Lexa can see Bellamy and Lincoln share a grin because the three of them know that Party Animal Clarke Griffin has arrived.

“Sure you can, Princess,” seems to slip from Bellamy’s lips like a reflex. He and Clarke share a loaded grin that ends in Bellamy smiling and shaking his head.

“Enough!” Anya exclaims, clearly frustrated. “Let’s start.” She draws a card. “Six” Monty consults the pad for a moment before exclaiming, “Dicks! All with a dick must drink!”

They go around in a circle, drawing cards with minimal casualties: Harper draws a two and dutifully takes her drink. Miller draws a four and Lexa and Harper briefly object at the rule ‘whores’ meaning all the girls had to drink, but Monty does his best to assure them that it’s all in jest. Monty draws seven, which results in Jasper daring him to stuff a whole slice of pizza in his mouth. He succeeds. Jasper draws an eight and immediately picks Maya as his ‘date’ for the rest of the game, only for Maya to draw another four, forcing him to take a drink with the girls. But then Lexa draws a Jack.

“Never Have I Ever!” Monty bellows. “Everybody put up three fingers. Every time you put a finger down you drink. The mini-game ends when someone puts down all their fingers.”

Lexa pauses for a moment, to think of something she hasn’t done.

“Never have I ever owned a dog.” Clarke, Lincoln, Miller and Jasper all put fingers down and drink, but Anya scoffs. Lexa glares at her. “What? It’s true.”

“You are such a baby. That’s not what this is about.”

“It’s Never Have I Ever, Anya. It’s about anything,” Lincoln says, shutting her down.

Clarke also takes a minute to think, but then she smirks. “Never have I ever sung in front of a live audience. YouTube doesn’t count.”

A collective groan erupts from the group as Lexa, Bellamy, Lincoln, Anya, Miller and Monty all put fingers down and drink

“That was downright cruel,” Miller jokes.

Bellamy immediately puts forth, “Never have I ever been out of the country,” without hesitation.

Clarke, Monty, Harper and Maya all put down fingers and drink. Lexa glares at Anya, “What, you aren’t going to call Bellamy out on his boring Never Have I Ever?”

Anya’s mouth morphs into a Cheshire cat grin. “You asked for this,” she whispers before yelling, “NEVER HAVE I EVER SLEPT WITH MY BEST FRIEND OF THE SAME GENDER.”

Clarke pales and Lexa is about leap across the coffee table when Monty pipes up.

“Dammit, Anya! That was targeted at Miller and I! You never play fair!” He and Miller clink their beers together and drink. Anya is about to protest, but Monty continues. “That was fun. Your turn, Clarke.”

Anya immediately looks disappointed that Monty had distracted almost everyone from noticing that Clarke and Lexa should have also put their fingers down, but she stays silent, crossing her arms. She’ll be out for blood the next chance she gets, but Lexa still shoots Monty a grateful smile.

Lexa turns her attention to Clarke who still seems a little stunned. “Clarke,” she whispers, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I just,” she blinks a couple of times, steadying herself. “I just didn’t think—I didn’t know you told them.”

“I…I live with them, Clarke. It came up—”

“I get it. It’s fine.”

But it clearly wasn’t as Clarke drew her card. “What is a nine?”

“Waterfall!” Monty and Jasper exclaim together.

Clarke rolls her eyes with a smile. “Perfect.”

Lexa watches as Clarke finishes her drink as Monty and Jasper count down from nine, and tells herself that just because Clarke was mad about people knowing that they slept together doesn’t mean it meant anything to her.

Anya’s chance for revenge comes a round later. Everyone is at least a little bit drunker than they were before (some more than others), and Clarke draws a seven.

“This is a physical challenge, right?” Clarke asks, a smile on her face.

“Yes, ma’am,” Monty confirms. “What are we going to make dear Clarke do?”

Anya immediately gets up and heads to the fridge, “I got it.”

She returns from the kitchen with a can of Natural Light.

“Shotgun one of these,” she says, tossing it to Clarke who catches it easily. “They’ve been stuck in our fridge since Jasper dumped them on us on the Fourth of July.”

“For the last time, Sterling was the one who brought them! Not me!” Jasper squeaks.

Clarke considers the can in her hands for a moment before meeting Anya’s heavy gaze and raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Just one?” She places the can on coffee table. “How about we double it?”

“In exchange?” Anya presses.

“You stop being such a bitch.”

Lincoln struggles to contain a snort while Jasper and Monty start outright laughing. Anya’s eyes narrow.

“It’s going to take more than drinking two shitty beers for that to happen, princess.”

Clarke’s eyes don’t waver. “What did you have in mind?”

Anya darts back into the kitchen. Once she is out of sight, Lexa turns to Clarke.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do. I have a reputation to uphold,” Clarke tries to joke. “Look, I just want to get Anya off of our backs.”

Any returns from the kitchen with a bottle of tequila, a saltshaker, a lime wedge, and another can of beer, setting them down on the cluttered coffee table. Lexa eyes go wide, “No, Anya.”

“She asked for this, Lexa.” Anya returns her attention Clarke. “Shotgun these two cans of sewer water and do a body shot.” She pauses to grin. “Off of Lexa.”

“But—” Lexa feels Clarke’s hand on her arm.

“It’s okay. Trial by fire, I get it.” Clarke licks her lips, staring Anya down. “Deal.”

Apparently, Lexa’s comfort didn’t matter in this power struggle that had developed between Clarke and Anya. But it wasn’t like Lexa was particularly opposed to Clarke putting her mouth on her body. She had been thinking about it all night. But she’s not exactly drunk enough for this. Still she finds herself pulling her hair back, and pulling her the sleeves of her tank top to the side, knowing that Clarke his heading for her collarbones. She places a lime wedge in her mouth, and waits for Clarke.

“I need a knife or something,” Clarke says, picking up one of the beers.

“I got you,” Lincoln says, handing her a pocketknife.

“Thanks,” she stands and takes a deep breath. With a kind of clinical precision only acquired through experience, Clarke methodically used the knife to puncture a dime size hole in the bottom of the first can.

“Okay, here we go,” Clarke says just before bringing the beer to her mouth, and popping the can open. Lexa can’t help but watch Clarke’s neck as she sucks down the beer.

In a matter of seconds, the Clarke is crushing the empty can in her hand. “One.”

She moves onto the next one with the exact same process, but this time, when Lexa’s eyes travel to Clarke’s neck, she accidently makes eye contact with Bellamy. It’s like a bucket of cold water: She isn’t alone. Everyone can see this.

Clarke crushes the second empty can. “Two.”

She shoots a pointed glare to Anya before picking up the saltshaker and turning to face Lexa. Clarke softens and Lexa can feel her blush creeping up her neck, so she does everything she can to not make eye contact with Clarke.

Clarke kneels in front of Lexa, and Lexa feels her skin shrink tighter around her body with chills as Clarke whispers, “Lex, look at me.”

And Lexa does. And when she does, she sees Clarke’s big blue eyes, sad and happy at the same time. “I got this.”

Clarke’s eyes dart down, and Lexa closes her eyes, waiting to feel Clarke’s mouth on her collarbone. But instead, she feels Clarke’s hands wrap around her forearm, pulling it out so that the underside of her wrist is flat and facing upwards.

Her eyes snap open as Clarke sprinkles salt onto her forearm. Clarke grabs the bottle of tequila, twisting off the cap.

“Now wait a second—” Anya begins to protest, but Bellamy smacks her arm.

Clarke quickly licks the salt off of Lexa’s arm and takes a swig from bottle. Then she leans forward and gently plucks the lime wedge from Lexa’s mouth with her own, their lips grazing only ever so slightly.

After a moment, Clarke backs away, retaking her seat next to Lexa, plopping the spent lime wedge in a cup. “Three.” She smiles at Lexa, “See? Nothing to worry about.”

The problem with Clarke, Lexa realizes, is that she is deceptive. Not in an inherently negative way, but in a way where for five years Lexa thought she had Clarke figured out, and then woke up one morning to find that she didn’t. In a way where three years later Lexa thought she knew the truth about Clarke—who she really was and what she really wanted—only to find herself sitting next to a very familiar looking stranger.

The Clarke Griffin she had known would have taken advantage both of Lexa and the audience. Because it was all just a game anyway—no harm, no foul. No feelings were felt in the process of making this scene. That is the Clarke Griffin that Lexa spent five years loving and three years…well, still loving, but in an angry way. God, she was drunk.

But for the first time in eight years, Lexa didn’t understand Clarke’s actions.

“I think I need more pizza,” Lexa says quietly, turning from Clarke and heading to the kitchen.

*

_It takes several minutes for enough air to fill Lexa’s lungs and for her heart to slow, for her ears to stop ringing, but she can still feel her pulse in her core and her legs feel heavy._

_Clarke has pulled her hand away and is kissing her neck gently. “You are beautiful,” she breathes._

_“Love you, Clarke,” Lexa mumbles._

_“Please, I should be thanking you,” Clarke whispers between kisses._

_“What?”_

_“Shhh, babe. You were perfect.”_

_Clarke’s words don’t make sense, but Lexa is suddenly way too tired to care. And besides, Clarke’s arms are around her, and she is kissing her neck again, and this is finally happening. She drifts off into a peaceful sleep._

_Hours later, she wakes to find Clarke still wrapped around her, and finally she knows definitively that this is not a dream. She kisses Clarke’s cheek just because she can._

_Clarke stirs and Lexa kisses her forehead softly. “Lex?” Clarke mumbles, her voice thick with sleep._

_“Good morning, Clarke,” Lexa whispers, taking the opportunity to kiss Clarke’s lips._

_Clarke returns the kiss with a soft moan. It seems to jar her awake. Lexa suppresses a giggle as Clarke’s eyes snap wide open._

_“We—last night.”_

_“Yes,” Lexa answers with a grin. “We did.”_

_Clarke pulls from Lexa and sits up. “I—I have to go.”_

_Lexa’s brow furrows. “What?”_

_“Yeah, I know, but—” Clarke starts, swinging her legs out of the bed and hastily pulling on her jeans. “Where is my bra?”_

_“Here,” Lexa picks it up from where it landed on her bedside lamp and hands it to Clarke. “Clarke, it’s Sunday,” her stomach starts to hollow. “You don’t have anywhere to be. Come back to bed.”_

_Clarke pulls on her sweatshirt as she stands, turning to face Lexa. She looks like she’s about to cry. “Uh—I can’t. This. Um, I’m not—I just can’t, okay?”_

_It is like Lexa has stepped on one of those trapped doors in the cartoons. The floorboards fall away, and Lexa is falling in the dark, screaming. Except she’s not. She is in her bed, naked, in front of Clarke. They had sex last night. And Lexa thought—_

_She pulls up the bed sheet to cover herself._

_“Why not?” She fights to keep her voice level._

_Clarke bites her lip and takes a deep breath. “Bellamy asked to go to Prom with me and I said yes. I promised him we would go tie shopping today since he’s in town.”_

_Clarke looks to the floor before she looks back at Lexa, so Lexa knows that she is lying at least about something, but instead she just says, “Oh.”_

_“Yeah,” Clarke’s mouth closes, opens and closes again before she starts to add, “I would love to—”_

_“You better get going then.”_

_Clarke nods, “Yeah.”_

_Lexa turns her back to her. “Yeah.”_

_She listens as Clarke leaves her room, closing the door behind her. She can hear each step she takes down the stairs, and then finally as she closes the front door, Lexa falls back into her bed, and the tears start. She doesn’t even bother fighting the sobs. Clarke left. It hurts._

*

She knows Clarke has followed her before she even turns around because she hears Bellamy restraining Anya from living room. “Oh, no, you’ve done enough tonight. Let it go.”

Still, she is terrified at what she will find when she acknowledges Clarke, so she focuses on loading up her plate with lukewarm Hawaiian pizza.

“Lexa?” Clarke hesitates.

“Uh-huh?” Lexa replies, not looking at Clarke.

“Are we—” Clarke reconsiders her words and starts again. “Are you okay with what happened in the living room?”

“You just licked my arm, Clarke. No big deal.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?” Clarke moves to stand beside her, but still keeps a few feet between them.

“I can look at you.”

“But you still aren’t.”

“Clarke, this is silly—”

“I’m sorry I almost kissed you tonight before your set.”

That forces Lexa to actually look at Clarke because she needs to make sure she’s being honest about apologizing.

Clarke’s eyes are glassy again. This is real. It was real.

“It’s okay,” is all Lexa can think to say because there is nothing else she _could_ possibly say.

“No, it’s not. I just. I guess I got caught up in the moment and I know that’s not an excuse, but—” Clarke takes a steadying breath. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

Lexa is too drunk for this. She should just nod and head straight to bed because she is going to end up making a least one mistake if she doesn’t, and she really can’t afford to make any right now.

And yet.

“Do you still want to kiss me?”

“What?” Clarke croaks out, taking a step closer.

“Do you still want to kiss me?” Lexa repeats. “Be honest.”

“Yes,” she answers immediately, her eyes boring into Lexa’s. Then, after a beat, nervously, “Do _you_ still want to kiss _me_?”

Lexa is too drunk for inhibitions and she is very, very tired of being the one who is supposed to keep her feelings in check.

She closes the gap between them, and in one swift motion, forcefully grabs Clarke’s head and brings their lips together. It’s not sweet, it’s not gentle, but it is exactly the way Lexa had always wanted to kiss Clarke—hard, definite, and in the open.

Clarke catches up quickly, bringing her hands around the nape of Lexa’s neck. Lexa pulls away, but keeps her forehead against Clarke’s as she catches her breath. Then she flips them around, picking Clarke up and pushing her onto the counter. Clarke starts to pepper kisses down Lexa’s neck, but Lexa brings her attention back to her lips. In turn, Clarke spreads her legs wide enough for Lexa to settle in between them.

Clarke grins into the kiss, and Lexa’s tongue presses against her smiling lips, which Clarke gladly grants access. Lexa revels in the moan she elicits when her tongue licks the roof of Clarke’s mouth. Her hands find their way under Clarke’s shirt and scratch down her back, swallowing yet another moan. Clarke’s hands find their way into Lexa’s hair, causing her to gasp. Clarke takes advantage of the distraction and bites down on Lexa’s bottom lip. This time Lexa pulls away, languishing her tongue against Clarke’s pulse point.

“Lexa,” Clarke breathes, “please—”

Lexa returns to Clarke’s mouth, licking into it.

“WATEEER-FAAAAHLL!” Jasper screams from the living room.

Lexa jumps back from Clarke as adrenalin courses through her body. Clarke is flushed and gasping for breath as she slips down from the counter. Lexa turns back to her now cold plate of pizza, picking it up and returning immediately into the living room.  She focuses on scarfing down each congealed slice on her plate instead of watching Clarke enter the living room a few moments later and quietly sitting next to her but also as far away from her as possible in the current seating arrangement. They don’t look at each other for the rest of the game, and Lexa prays that everyone is drunk enough not to notice.

*

A few hours later, everyone is crashing and burning. Anya had grumbled something about everyone being “a bunch of babies” and stumbled off to her room, and Bellamy and Harper not-so-discretely snuck off to Bellamy’s room shortly after. Lincoln is throwing a blanket over Monty and Miller in the loveseat, and Clarke is standing over Maya and Jasper on the couch, completely dead to the outside world.

“Do you have another blanket?” she asks Lincoln. “Because they aren’t moving.”

Lincoln snorts and nods. “Yeah, I’ll get it.” He walks off towards his room, leaving Lexa alone with Clarke.

“You can bunk with me,” Lexa says quietly, answering Clarke’s unasked question.

“Lexa—” Clarke starts.

“Unless you would rather bunk with Lincoln?” Lexa asks. But it’s not a real question because Lexa is already grabbing Clarke’s hand and leading her back to her room. Clarke doesn’t fight it.

“After you,” she says, once they reach her bedroom door. Clarke steps inside and Lexa follows after her, closing the door behind them.

Lexa watches nervously as Clarke looks around her room. Suddenly her unmade bed seems like a fatal error because how could she be so sloppy? And then she sees her lyric notebook face up and wide open on her desk, and when Clarke’s eyes drift over to it, it takes everything Lexa has not to vault over to it and launch it out of the window.

But Clarke doesn’t move in for a closer look. Instead she turns back to face Lexa. “It’s very you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I like it.”

Lexa smiles, but then catches herself, clearing her throat. “Right, well, thanks.” She grabs her pajamas from where they were hanging on her desk chair. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth.” She turns to leave, but then turns back to face Clarke. “Do you need anything?”

Clarke shrugs. “A glass of water probably.”

“Right. Okay.” She does an about-face and makes a beeline for the bathroom, and promptly scolds herself silently while brushing her teeth and changing.

This was supposed to be slow. And yet Clarke almost kissed her at the show, then she made out with Clarke in the kitchen, and now they are going to share a bed together. Nothing is going to _happen_ , Lexa assures herself, but she would be lying if she weren’t looking forward to waking up next to Clarke tomorrow morning.

Which is definitely something she should _not_ be looking forward to. They aren’t even really friends again yet. They aren’t even actually talking. Lexa just made awkward eye contact with her while she sang a song about the night they had sex and Clarke almost cried.

That’s not progress. This isn’t okay. They aren’t ready for any of this.

Still, Lexa heads to the kitchen and gets Clarke a big glass of water and two ibuprofen tablets, and heads back to her room where Clarke surely waits.

While she was gone, Clarke had changed into her Columbia sweats and an old NHS tee from high school, and is sitting on Lexa’s bed with what Lexa is sure is a sketchbook.

Clarke was never one to keep a written diary, but she always did a quick sketch before bed of her favorite part of the day. So much had happened, and Lexa wants desperately to know which part of the night Clarke is choosing to preserve. Which part she wants to be able to look back on years from now. Instead she holds out the glass and ibuprofen to her. “Here.”

Clarke sets her sketchbook closed on the bedside table and takes the offering. “Thanks.”

Lexa simply nods, switching off the light, and moving to get in on the other side of her bed. She feels Clarke get under the covers next to her a moment later, and she feels like she should say something. Like ‘goodnight’ or ‘keep your hands to yourself’ or ‘yeah I wrote a song about when we had sex and it fucked me up’ or something. But she doesn’t get the chance.

“I’m sorry about making out with you,” Clarke says quietly.

“Clarke, I started it.”

“Still—”

“You know, it’s not doing anything for my self-esteem when you apologize for things I desperately want you to do.”

She feels Clarke roll over to look at her, and against her better judgment, she does the same.

“Do you mean that?”

“What?”

“That you still want me.”

Lexa swallows, clenching her jaw. Yes. And she knows she shouldn’t admit it, but Clarke is here and asking directly. “I can’t seem to help it.” She takes a deep, steadying breath. “I tried hating you. Afterwards. It didn’t make much difference.”

“I hated you.”

“I know.”

“I was wrong.”

“Yes. You were.”

The words ‘I’m sorry’ hang between them, but instead Clarke asks, “Do you play that song at every show?”

“No. I wanted…” Lexa clears her throat. “I don’t usually have a solo.” The admission makes her eyes burn.

“That’s a bit ironic,” Clarke jokes.

“I figured you’d appreciate it,” Lexa counters.

They are both quiet for a long time, just together in the dark. Clarke bites her lip and Lexa waits for what is to come.

“Lexa, can I fix this?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure,” Lexa answers honestly. She doesn’t ask what Clarke means by ‘fix’, or if their definitions of ‘fix’ are the same. Right now, Lexa doesn’t even know what her definition would be.

“Do you want me to?”

Lexa rolls over, making sure her back is to Clarke before she answers, “I can’t seem to help it.”

Lexa prays she won’t remember any of this in the morning because she was too drunk, but she knows it is a lost cause. She feels Clarke roll away from her, and listens to her breathing. Sleep does not come easy for either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm still writing this. Sorry I suck at updating.
> 
> Songs Used:
> 
> Walls by Emery  
> I’m Not Here For Rage, I’m Here For Revenge by Emery
> 
> As always, hit me up on Tumblr.


	5. Whispering Everything I'd Ever Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has a tough day dealing with her still very much present grief. Lexa hears a couple of things she wasn't supposed to, gets pissy about things she has no business getting pissy about, and the time finally comes - Warped Tour begins and Clarke and Lexa make some mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRSTLY, I gotta dedicate this chapter to the lovely Techgirl67 and wish her a happy belated birthday!!! This was supposed to posted on her birthday, but I'm terrible, so.
> 
> Anyways, note that rating change, and it looks like there's only going to be one more chapter in this part of the story, but there will be more to come, I assure you.

Lexa feels warm. The pressure of another body against her back—real and there—makes her breathe deeply. She feels safe in the state between asleep and not quite awake. 

But then the body shakes. And a muffled sob breaks through the morning, bringing Lexa out of her sleepy haze. 

Clarke.

Clarke is next to her, and Clarke is crying.

Lexa slowly comes to, turning on her back as gently as she can.

She watches as Clarke’s shoulder shakes with another sob, wondering not for the first time if _this_ is really what she meant when she said she wanted Clarke honestly or not at all.

She debates for a minute if she should say anything. She can count the number of times Clarke has cried in front of anyone, even her, on her hands—including her father’s funeral.

That wasn’t even a month ago. Jake hasn’t even been gone a month.

That makes up Lexa’s mind for her as she gently takes hold of Clarke’s shoulder and pulls the girl around to face her.

“Hey—”

“Oh, God. Did I wake you? I’m sorry—” Clarke furiously starts wiping her cheeks, trying to pull it together.

“No, no. It’s okay. You didn’t—”

Clarke starts to move to get up. “I should, um, take a walk—”

Lexa takes hold of both of her shoulders and gently coaxes Clarke back down.

“You don’t need to go anywhere, Clarke. It’s okay. This is okay.”

“It’s just…it’s stupid,” Clarke says, fighting her sobs.

“No, it’s not. Tell me,” Lexa prompts softly, entwining the fingers of her right hand with Clarke’s left.

“It’s just,” Clarke sobs, “I woke up, and I wanted to text him that you still snore because we always joke about it, you know?”

“You always tease me, you mean,” Lexa corrects softly.

“Same difference,” Clarke sniffles. “So I unlocked my phone and pulled up his text conversation, and…”

Clarke breaks down, unable to hold back the ugly sobs racking her body. She folds herself into Lexa’s chest, and Lexa immediately wraps her arms tightly around her, using one hand to scratch up and down her back, while quietly shushing her.

“I just—I miss him _so much_.”

“I know. I miss him too.” Lexa presses a soft kiss to the crown of Clarke’s head, fighting back tears of her own.

“And he was always there. He was supposed to always be there.”

“I know, babe.”

“It’s not _fair_.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Clarke moves to sob into Lexa’s neck, and Lexa just holds her through it, rubbing her back and kissing her temple after particularly ugly sobs.

An hour or so later, after Clarke’s crying has died down into soft hiccups, and the sun has risen enough to cast golden light through the window onto them, Lexa whispers softly, “I don’t snore.”

“Yes, you do, Lex. It’s soft and it’s cute, but it’s still snoring.”

“Lies and slander. That’s all I ever get from you Griffins.” Lexa says, replying the exact same way she always had whenever Clarke or Jake teased her.

“Too bad you’re stuck with us,” Clarke repeats in kind, her voice still reedy from crying. She presses a kiss to Lexa’s cheek.

And of course, that’s when Bellamy decides to walk in.

“Up and at ’em, ladies! We gotta—Jesus Christ!”

Clarke rolls off of Lexa and pulls the comforter over her head in one swift motion, while Lexa throws the covers off of her body and crosses the room to push Bellamy out of her room.

“What the fuck is that?” he protests as Lexa shoves him into the hallway.

“None of your fucking business,” Lexa answers plainly, closing her bedroom door behind her. She heads for the kitchen, and Bellamy follows. She pays him no mind, instead focusing on getting coffee started.

“Really? Because it looks like I just stopped you from making _yet another_ stupid mistake.”

Lexa slams the coffee canister closed as angrily as she can and rounds on him, her voice deathly calm like ice.

“Really? That’s interesting. Because what actually happened was I woke up to my _oldest friend_ crying about missing her father whose funeral we attended not even a month ago.”

Bellamy’s jaw goes slack. He can’t even begin to sputter out a response.

“Stop trying to protect me. Stop thinking the worst of Clarke. And _stop jumping to conclusions_.”

She thrusts a coffee mug into Bellamy’s chest and makes strides to head outside to clear her head.

She’s halfway down the block before the tears come and she can’t make them stop.

* * *

_Summer is humid and terrible. Clarke’s bedroom smells slightly of the artificial air that circulates through the A/C, but the scent of the charcoal barbecue outside still manages to waft it’s way upstairs and it’s only a little distracting as Lexa and Clarke start their third take of this week’s YouTube cover video._

_It’s been two weeks since the camping trip, and the kiss on the lake, so Lexa’s not so sure what to make of Clarke’s song selection for this week. Still, she practiced it, and only swoons a little bit when Clarke kicks off on her ukulele and starts the verse._

_“Oh, dear, it's been hardly a moment and you are already missed. There is still a bit of your skin that I've yet to have kissed,” she croons._

_Actually, Lexa swoons so much that she almost misses her cue right before the chorus, but she manages to recover quickly enough to hit her harmonies._

_And from that point, Lexa just hits her zone—she’s playing her trusty acoustic and Clarke strumming away on her uke and singing with her beautiful raspy voice, and this beautiful song that is making them both smile. Time both seems to stop and speed up because suddenly they are belting out the final chorus together, grinning and a little flushed._

_“Oh, I kiss you and I know it is love from the first time I pressed my lips against yours thinking, "’Oh, is it love?’"_

_Lexa finishes out a little riff, letting the last note ring for a moment as Clarke smiles at her, eyes bright as ever. Then Clarke turns her attention to the webcam._

_“And there you have it, folks. Let us know what you think down below! Ciao!” Clarke shuts off the webcam, and suddenly Jake is in the doorway clapping._

_“Nice one, girls!” he exclaims with a huge smile on his face. “You two really sound good together.”_

_Then he winks at Lexa like he knows what happened on the lake, and Lexa kinda wants to die, but she just laughs nervously instead._

_“You say that every week, Dad,” says with an eye roll._

_“That’s because it’s true every week, kiddo. Come on, food’s ready.”_

_He leaves without another word, so they put their instruments aside and follow him._

_Despite the mugginess, they eat outside as the sun sets. After chowing down on barbecue ribs, coleslaw, and summer squash, Lexa sits back in her deck chair and sucks down the rest of her root beer. (Abby always buys the fancy kind in glass bottles for when they barbecue because she knows it’s Lexa’s favorite.)_

_Clarke giggles and Lexa glances over to see her smiling down at her phone._

_“What is it?”_

_“Oh, just Octavia and Raven trolling us again,” she replies easily, turning to show Lexa the YouTube comment. It reads simply, in all caps, JUST KISS ALREADY._

_Lexa chokes a little bit, but covers it up with a laugh. “They’re nuts.”_

_“I know, right?” Clarke says as she takes back her phone._

_“Lexa,” Jake calls from inside._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Will you bring in the plates by the grill?”_

_“Sure.”_

_Clarke helped with dishes last night, so Lexa doesn’t mind helping this time around. She gets to work immediately, scrubbing off the congealed bits of sauce._

_“You know,” Jake starts gently, “I wasn’t kidding earlier, Lex. You and Clarke do sound good together.”_

_Lexa grins. “Thank you. She has a beautiful voice.”_

_“Sure, but you have a pretty good set of pipes too.”_

_She rolls her eyes, “Uh-huh, sure.”_

_“Hey, I know what I’m talking about. I sang in church chorus!”_

_“Okay, Jake,” Lexa relents with an eye roll._

_They are quiet for a moment as Lexa switches from scrubbing to drying what Jake rinses._

_“You know, I care about you, right, kid?”_

_“Yeah,” Lexa says tentatively._

_“You’re basically like my own. And I know you care about Clarke a lot.”_

_Lexa sets down her towel. “Jake—”_

_“Hey, no slacking on the job, Woods.”_

_So she resumes shakily drying dishes, sure that her heart is going to make its way up her esophagus and out of her body even though that is_ not _how anatomy works._

_“Anyway, I’m not saying anything by it, just making an observation. And I know Clarke cares about you a lot too.” He passes another plate Lexa’s way and starts rinsing the next. “But remember when Scooter ran away? And we all knew Clarke was torn up about it missing him and worried, but she wouldn’t say anything?”_

_“And then she broke down at the animal shelter when we picked him back up.”_

_“Yeah, and you had to hold her hand all the way back to the house.”_

_Of course Lexa remembered that part. Clarke had one hand firmly around Scooter’s shaggy neck as he watched the cars go by because he was a dog and just happy to be going home, and her other hand was holding onto Lexa’s for dear life, while tears streamed down her face._

_“Right, well, so, Clarke is my daughter and I love her—but she doesn’t have the greatest track record with dealing with emotions.”_

_“I know that,” Lexa says, a little petulantly as she puts away some of the dry dishes._

_“Okay, just trying to help.”_

_“I don’t understand—”_

_Before Lexa can clarify, Clarke comes in from outside. “Dad, is Lexa’s indentured servitude over? I wanna make s’mores.”_

_“Did Mom set up the fire pit already?”_

_“Yeah, we’re just waiting for you to free Lexa.”_

_Jake grins, “Well, then consider it done.”_

_“Finally!” Clarke grabs the s’more makings from the counter and heads back outside. “Come on, Lexa! Grab the matches!”_

_Lexa finishes putting away some dishes, before turning to Jake. “I can stay and finish if you want.”_

_“Nah, get outta here. I can handle some dishes.”_

_“Okay.” Lexa folds one of the dish towels, and grabs the matches Clarke asked for._

_Just before she steps outside, she hears Jake mutter, “I’m rooting for you, kid.”_

* * *

By the time Lexa makes her way back to the house, the pot of coffee she started is gone, so she stiffly starts another because she is not going through rehearsal without some caffeine. 

Lexa _wishes_ she was hardcore enough to drink her coffee black, but she still needs just the smallest splash of cream to take the edge off. It’s when she’s stirring this small splash in that she notices Bellamy’s not so hushed voice coming from the living room.

She quietly makes her way to stand just out of sight in the hallway.

“…all I’m saying is that after you go back to Virginia or New York or wherever you go after you leave here, Lexa’s life is still going to be here. This band is her career.”

“Are you being serious right now, Bell? Don’t you think I know that?”

“Do you?” Bellamy asks, a little more urgently. “Because after you get whatever you need to from this trip, Lexa is still going to be a real person and she’s still going to be in love with you. Something you never quite figured out before.”

“This is different, Bellamy. This isn’t temporary. This is for real.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I—”

A new voice interrupts. “Can you guys _stop_ with the soap opera? It’s not even ten.”

Curse Anya and her impeccable timing.

“Whatever,” Bellamy huffs, “Talk is cheap anyway, and I have warm-ups I should be doing instead of listening to your excuses.”

Lexa can hear Bellamy approaching because naturally she happened to position herself across from his bedroom door, and so she tries desperately to assume a casual stance—because she’s just...chilling in the hallway…with a cup of coffee, nothing out of the ordinary here. But he still jumps when he walks by her.

“…Hey,” she whispers, for lack of a better response.

Bellamy’s face quickly morphs back into annoyance. “Whatever,” he growls, as he stalks into his room, slamming his door behind him.

A few beats later, the sound of scales and arpeggios start emanating from his room.

Lexa waits for him to work halfway around the circle of fifths before she moves to enter the living room—casually, as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping the entire time.

Anya, to her credit, makes nothing of it, focusing instead on the mug in Lexa’s hand.

“Did you make more coffee?”

“Yeah, there’s like half a pot in there.”

“Thank God,” she mutters, getting up and making a beeline for the kitchen.

Lexa shakes her head and then sits gingerly next to Clarke. “Where did the others go?”

“Uh, to Denny’s, I think?” Clarke answers, “I kind of only half heard the conversation while I was getting out of the shower.”

Lexa nods, and after a beat of silence, Clarke continues. “When I got out, you were gone.”

“Yeah, I…had to get some air.”

Clarke’s brow furrows. “Because of me?”

“What?! Oh. No, because of Bellamy. Not you.”

Clarke seems to relax at this. “Okay.”

Still, Lexa feels like she needs to elaborate because that wasn’t the only reason. She takes a fortifying breath.

“…And when you were talking about Jake…it brought up some…memories, I guess, and I just…needed to deal with them without dealing with Bellamy or anybody else getting in the way, and I didn’t wanna bring you back down, so…”

She trails off as Clarke starts to nod. “I get it.”

A sad silence starts to stretch out between them, and Lexa can’t stand it, so she pushes forward.

“Did you eat yet?”

Clarke shakes her head.

“Come on,” Lexa stands up, pulling Clarke up with her. “I’ll make you some toast and eggs over medium, just like you like them.”

‘Just like Jake used to make’ goes unsaid, but Clarke still smiles anyway, letting Lexa lead her back into the kitchen.

*

When it’s time to go to rehearsal, Clarke decides that she rather stay back at the townhouse saying that Lexa’s bed was the perfect bed to binge Netflix in even though Lexa can really tell that Clarke isn’t one-hundred percent recovered from her breakdown this morning.

To be perfectly honest, the only thing Lexa really wants to do is wrap Clarke up in a blanket and binge Xena with her until Clarke is back on her feet, but they are leaving to join the tour in a few days, so she doesn’t exactly have the time.

With all that said, rehearsal is still good, and just as productive as it needs to be. That evening, Lexa leaves their studio feeling that they are actually finally ready for this adventure.

When they return to the townhouse, Lexa is armed with a Double-Double combo with well-done fries and a chocolate shake to help Clarke eat her feelings, and she’s about to walk into her room, when she hears Clarke talking to…who she thinks is Octavia through Skype.

Lexa doesn’t really want to eavesdrop on a second conversation today, but Clarke’s tone of voice gives her pause.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!”

“Everyone?” Octavia slight tinny voice pipes up. “Who else are you talking to?”

“Your dumb brother.”

“Oh…yikes.”

“Yikes is right. He has it out for me, O! Him and Anya both!”

“Well, that’s three people who kind of think this adventure West to rekindle Lost Love is a little sudden…Maybe there’s a reason for that?”

“Well, Lincoln is happy to see me.”

“That’s because Lincoln is a hopeless romantic.”

Lexa hears Clarke huff and maybe…scream into a pillow a little bit?

“Yeah, well, it’s a shame you’re gonna break his heart when he finds out you moved on.”

“Clarke!” Half of Octavia’s scream cuts out over Skype.

“What? It’s true.”

“I haven’t…moved on.”

“You’re wearing her NASA sweatshirt, hun.”

“Shut up! You were doing the same thing a year ago!” There’s an edge to Octavia’s voice that wasn’t there before.

“Oh, so it’s perfectly fine for you to use Raven as a stand-in, but when I do it, it’s unhealthy and manipulative. Okay.”

Lexa realizes that this is stuff she _really shouldn’t_ be hearing, but—

“It’s _different,_ Clarke. She was in love with you, and Raven and I—This—This is just different, okay?”

“Whatever, O. I’m not gonna debate with you. You and Raven are adults and I guess that’s your business, but don’t try to talk to me about Lexa.”

“Wait, Clarke, please. Stop. I’m…I’m just worried. That’s all. This was all…very unexpected.”

“I guess that’s just how it looked to you, O, but I had been thinking about this for a very long time. And then when Dad… I just don’t see the point in waiting anymore, okay?”

“If you’re sure—”

“I am.”

With the conversation cooling down, Lexa decides to head back to the kitchen, mainly to try to breathe new life into Clarke’s shake by sticking in the freezer to chill, but also to try to not look like she had been listening on things she clearly was not supposed to hear.

Clarke comes out a few minutes later and hugs Lexa after she realizes that she got her a chocolate shake. Clarke takes the food and Lexa back to Lexa’s room to watch an episode of Xena just like Lexa originally pictured she’d be doing when she first got home.

But even with Clarke offering her some of her fries and Xena defying gravity by flipping in the air sixty times in a row from cliff face and onto a ship at sea to save Gabrielle, Lexa can’t help going over some of what she heard again and again.

_Oh, so it’s perfectly fine for you to use Raven as a stand-in, but when I do it, it’s unhealthy and manipulative._

_She was in love with you._

It kind of hollows out Lexa’s stomach to know that while she had spent the last three years coping so had Clarke—but in a very different way.

*

That hollowed out feeling returns the day they are loading up on the tour bus they’re sharing with Pharmboy to actually kick off the tour.

Because Lexa boards with Clarke right behind her, but when she turns around to check if Clarke wanted the window or the aisle seat, Clarke is already seated and chatting with Maya.

It hurts in a way that Lexa both doesn’t expect and remembers intimately—like an old shitty friend, back in town to be shitty. Part of her knows that she’s being overly sensitive, that Clarke probably didn’t want to cause drama with Bellamy or Anya by sitting next to her right from the onset.

She still plops down in the window seat with a huff though.

Of course, Lincoln is the only one to catch that as he makes his way towards her.

“Buck up, Commander! It’s the beginning of everything!” he says, overly smiley, even for him, as he plops down next to her.

“I’m just tired.”

“Adrenaline’s got nothing on Clarke, huh?” He says softly so only she can hear.

“It’s got nothing to do with her,” Lexa counters, clenching her jaw.

“Okay,” he says, pulling out his headphones and pulling up his hood. “Then I’m gonna take a nap until we stop for breakfast.”

“Everyone was supposed to eat before we left,” Lexa reminds him. “I sent out an itinerary!”

“Yeah, and I did. But I know for a fact that Anya, Bellamy, Jasper, _and_ Miller didn’t, so. We’re gonna stop for breakfast in a few hours or you’re gonna have a mutiny on your hands.”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond before turning up his playlist and closing his eyes—completely intent on blocking out everything—and Lexa kinda hates him for it because she was ready to argue.

But instead, she pulls out her own headphones and tries to follow Lincoln’s example.

An hour or so later, her phone vibrates.

_Clarke_

_Are you awake?_

_Yes?_

_Come up here and sit with me._

_Isn’t Maya sitting with you?_

_She’s now fully wrapped around Jasper,_

_and completely zonked out._

_Like everyone else on this bus._

_So come sit with me._

_Are you sure you want me to?_  

If this were a verbal conversation, there would be a bit of bite to Lexa’s words, making it clear she’s both annoyed with Clarke and suspicious of her intentions. But unfortunately, it’s text, so the nuance is lost.

_Clarke_

_Lexa, I just asked you twice._

_Of course I’m sure._

_Okay_  

So Lexa shoves her headphones into her hoodie pocket, and climbs over Lincoln as gracefully as she can. She makes her way slowly down the aisle, careful not to lose her balance and fall on a conked out Bellamy or Anya as she passes. She looks up to see Clarke turned around in her seat, waiting for her with a smile.

“Hi,” she whispers, when Lexa finally sits down next to her.

“Hi,” Lexa whispers back.

“So this is it. You’re starting Warped Tour!” Clarke is clearly giddy with excitement.

“Yeah…I am,” Lexa replies, and for a moment, it’s just like it’s hitting her for the first time.

She’s starting a national tour with her band made up of her best friends, and Clarke is here, smiling and excited.

“It’s really happening.”

Holy shit.

They stop two hours later at a relatively clean Denny’s.

When the waitress comes around for beverages, the mutiny almost happens anyway.

“You don’t have espresso?” Anya asks dejectedly.

“Sorry, no. We do have a new bold roast though, if you’re interested.”

“She’ll have that and so will I,” Bellamy supplies groggily.

“No, I won’t,” Anya growls. The waitress pauses her writing and looks wide-eyed for someone non-threatening. Lexa meets her gaze and smiles before directing her attention back to Anya.

“An, chill out, I’m sure there’s a coffee shop around here we can stop at.”

“But I’m dying. You know I can’t drink that sludge.”

“What? It’s not _that_ bad, guys,” Bellamy whines.

“To those of us with taste buds, yes, it is,” Lincoln chimes in after the waitress takes everyone else’s drink order.

Clarke pulls out her phone, accessing the GPS. “Well, if you guys are gonna be picky, I’m sure there’s a Starbucks around here—”

“Fuck Starbucks,” Lexa says a little too loudly for this early in the morning at a family restaurant.

Clarke raises her eyebrows. “O-Kay, no Starbucks. That’s new.”

“I just hate corporate operations in general,” Lexa explains.

“You do know that Warped Tour is a _gigantic corporate operation_ , right?”

“Look, their coffee is just average and yet they’ve all but monopolized the coffee industry, stripping coffee of any and all nuance in the process.”

Clarke stares at Lexa for a moment, a small grin forming on her face.

“What?” Lexa asks nervously.

“Nothing. This is just new to me and I like it,” Clarke admits.

“Well—”

“Is that a gas station across the street?” Anya interrupts.

“I doubt the Arco Minimart is going to have espresso,” Clarke teases.

“They’ll have Monster though,” she says with a wink.

“Oh, please stop putting that poison in your body,” Lexa whines.

“I need it, Lex! I need it to live!” she exclaims, getting up.

“You disgust me,” Lincoln declares, evenly.

“Right back at you, bud,” she says, slapping down on his shoulder. “If the waitress comes back before I do—”

“Get the lumberjack slam with sourdough, we know. Now get out of here,” Bellamy cuts in.

“See, that’s how I know it’s _real between us_ ,” Anya teases, making her way out the door.

Lexa shakes her head, biting back a smile, but when she catches Clarke’s slightly bewildered grin, she can’t hold back.

Life turns on a dime.

*

It’s really fucking hot.

The kind of hot where everything more than twenty feet in front of you looks wiggly.

Water bottles keep materializing on stage and Lexa honestly can’t tell if it’s because she’s drinking them or because needs to keep pouring them over her head. It’s just one big, loud, wet, hot blur.

But she can still make out Clarke over by their table—in too short cutoffs and one of Heda’s tees that she hastily cut the sleeves off of this morning, her hair up in a messy bun that literally would only work for her, practically glowing in the summer sun. Every time the water clears from her eyes, Lexa can’t help but take a moment to enjoy.

Eventually Clarke makes her way into the crowd in front of their stage, and Lexa almost laughs because she has perfect timing.

Heda finishes out their song, before taking a quick in-between break to hydrate. Anya runs across the stage, spraying those close enough with water. Bellamy rips off his shirt and tosses it into the crowd before pouring a full bottle of water over his head. As he shakes his shaggy hair, Lexa can’t even be mad that he’s getting her wet because it unfortunately feels refreshing. She steps up to the mic to address the crowd, eyeing Clarke for a second before she starts.

“It’s fucking hot out.”

The crowd moans in agreement.

“But,” Lexa holds up her hand, “We _are_ at Warped Tour, so—”

She doesn’t get to finish her though before the crowd starts cheering.

“Yeah, that definitely counts for something,” she says with a smile.

A girl from the crowd screams, “I LOVE YOU, LEXA!”

Lexa grins broadly, but Anya immediately groans into her mic. “Ah, jeez, here it starts.”

Another girl screeches, “I LOVE YOU TOO!”

Someone else yells, “I LOVE YOU MORE!”

Lexa chuckles a little into the mic. “I love you all. So much.”

Bellamy leans into his mic “You’re such a sap.”

“But it’s true.” Lexa cheats out to look at him. “I love all of my people!”

Laughter ripples through the crowd.

She adjusts her guitar strap, and checks her tuning for a moment. “That said,” she continues, “this is our last one.”

The crowd whines loudly—variations on “Noooooo”.

“I know, I know. We’re having fun up here.” She discretely shoots each of her band mates a look to confirm that they are set to move onto the next song. Once she gets confirmation, she addresses the crowd a final time.

“In any case, we’re Heda, if you didn’t already know, and our merch table is right over there,” she points, “so if you wanna stop by and say hi or hang out, that’s where we’ll be.” She takes a firmer hold on the neck of her guitar, readying herself. “Until then…”

Lincoln does a quick count off and then Lexa, Bellamy, and Anya are strumming the opening riff in sync. Then Lexa takes to the mic.

_These are the words I will say. This is the story I’ll tell. When I speak your name_

Anya joins screeching in tandem.

_You'll probably like it yourself!_

Bellamy comes in underneath them both with low harmonies.

_You wanted me when you wanted me and the rest was just a waste of your time._

Anya takes to jumping around stage while she plays—something neither Lexa nor Bellamy could never quite master. They’re both just content to stay out of her way.

Again, the heat seems to steal their time, and Lexa finds herself already at the bridge, quickly wiping sweat from her eyes, as Bellamy settles into a slower guitar riff. Her delicate crooning, reflects the change of pace, with Bellamy joining in underneath her.

_You dug my heart out of me. I thought you love me but you don't 'cause you dug my heart out of me._

Together they crescendo into the last line of the bridge, as Bellamy finishes the phrase.

_I waited for you to answer why, but waiting's not a reply._

Bellamy and Anya echo the first verse, while Lexa takes a breath to gather herself, giving a quick nod to Lincoln before they slam back into the final chorus.

_For what its worth I believed every word that you said, so here is what I will say with these last wasted breaths:_

Lexa drops her hold on her guitar, choosing instead to brace herself on the mic stand as she delivers the final line, looking directly into the crowd of fans fighting to get ever closer to the stage. She smiles as she realize that they are screaming the words she wrote along with her.

_Take, take, take, take back your promises and those sweet kisses that I thought were only for me._

Bellamy and Anya let their last chord ring out as Lexa comes up for air. The crowd screams, but it feels like Lexa’s head is underwater—or maybe it’s the heat—when she spots Clarke’s ethereal figure in the crowd.

The rest of the day is bright blur of signing shirts and taking selfies and snaps with fans. Trying to stay cool in the shade, constantly reapplying sunscreen, and in between it all, trying to see some of the other bands’ sets.

Still, through it all, Lexa keeps finding Clarke’s eyes on her and she revels in it, meeting Clarke’s gaze with all of the confidence a rockstar is supposed to have. She thinks she sees Clarke blush a couple of times, but that could just be her pale skin losing its fight against the sun.

Finally, with stages torn down and equipment packed up, everyone makes their way back to the buses long after dark.

That doesn’t stop Anya from breaking out booze though.

“Don’t be babies. We are rockstars. We are gonna drink!” she declares. And no one can really argue with her because after the day they’ve had, everyone could use a drink or ten. What Anya doesn’t necessarily anticipate, however, is Clarke drinking her under the table. They are tied four beers and four shots a piece when Anya finally surrenders citing dehydration as the only reason for her tap out. But it’s clear Clarke has earned a modicum of Anya’s respect before she slinks away another band’s bus to hookup with another bassist she met.

Slowly, one by one, the rest of the bus’s occupants either collapse into their bunks or make their way to other buses for some action, leaving Clarke and Lexa alone for the first time since the left Los Angeles.

And even though it’s hot as balls, Clarke finds her way into Lexa’s lap, and Lexa gladly wraps her arms around her—the two of them both loose and light from the alcohol and the summer.

Lexa can’t seem to stop herself from pressing kisses onto Clarke’s bare shoulders, nor can she remember why she would want to stop. Clarke leans back into her chest and sighs contently. Lexa drops a tentative kiss to Clarke’s neck.

“Lexa,” she breathes, “that feels nice.”

“Oh?” Lexa peppers a few more kiss up to her jaw and then Clarke is turning to capture her lips. Clarke moves to straddle Lexa’s lap for better access, and the kiss deepens.

Lexa slowly moves her hands from Clarke’s hips to wrap under her ass, pulling Clarke towards her, eliciting a moan. She pulls back for breath and is met with Clarke’s pink-sunburned nose, and dark, hungry eyes.

And she grins.

Because she knows that even though there are still a few people on this bus, and even though her bunk is barely big enough to hold her, let alone another person, and even though she really, really shouldn’t do this—

She knows that she loves Clarke, and tonight—after a day of being a fucking rockstar on the fucking biggest summer tour in North America—she’s gonna show her just how much.

She stands up from her seat, hoisting Clarke with her. Clarke yelps a little in surprise, but wraps her legs around Lexa’s waist.

Slowly, carefully, and a little unsteadily because they are both a little drunk, Lexa carries Clarke to her bunk and roughly drops her down before climbing on top of her.

They’re both in a fit of giggles, but Lexa presses insistent kisses to Clarke’s neck, jaw, and cheeks in between.

She feels Clarke pull at her shirt and is all too happy to shed it, reaching down to do the same for Clarke. Lexa drinks in the sight of Clarke—gorgeous and still glowing even without the sun—before bending back down for a taste. Clarke fingers find their way into Lexa’s hair, and it feels like salvation, grounding her and blasting her into orbit at the same time.

In the back of her mind, Lexa finds extremely hilarious and well-timed that Clarke decided to wear a front clasping bra today, but in the forefront, she can only feel blessed. She releases it gently, and Clarke sighs.

“Lexa.” One word both a prayer and a warning—is this what they want? Is this what she wants?

“Clarke,” she whispers, “let me take care of you.”

“But Lex—”

“I want to.”

“But we’re drunk.”

Lexa smirks up at Clarke. “I always am when I look at you.”

Clarke opens her mouth to protest, but Lexa takes one of her nipples into her mouth, so the sound that comes out misses the mark.

Lexa is gentle but determined, pulling Clarke’s bra away and tossing it aside, bringing her hand up to palm her other breast. Clarke moans again when Lexa lets her nipple free with a pop, moving to switch to the other.

But it’s when Lexa starts peppering kisses down Clarke’s chest to her navel that Clarke starts to whine, her hips bucking seemingly of their own accord.

Lexa pauses her ministrations to grin at how flushed Clarke has become.

“Are you going to be able to be quiet, Clarke?” she teases, her hands deftly undoing the fly of Clarke’s cutoffs.

A desperate “Uh-huh” is all she can muster.

“Good.” She slowly drags Clarke’s shorts off, underwear and all, flinging them aside. “Because I’d hate for someone to wake up and see what I’m about to do to you.”

She maneuvers quickly out of her pants, not being able to deal with her own uncomfortable arousal in them any longer before settling between Clarke’s legs, pressing a few kisses to her inner thighs.

“Lexa, please,” Clarke hisses, threading her fingers in Lexa’s hair in an attempt to move her where she wants her. She resists for a moment, teasing Clarke for just a little longer to get one more desperate plea to fall from her lips—

And then she tastes her without preamble, pressing the flat of her tongue to Clarke’s wet folds and dragging it up through them. Lexa can feel Clarke tremble as she lets out a gasp. Lexa locks her arms around Clarke’s hips to keep her grounded as she teases her entrance before pressing in as far as her tongue will go, gently nosing her clit.

“Lexa. Oh, Lex, please, God,” is Clarke’s mantra, in desperate whispered gasps.

Lexa answers by moving up to take Clarke’s clit between her lips. Gently at first, but soon sucking and lashing her tongue against. Clarke writhes and gasps, and, despite her best efforts, moans a little too loudly, but a moment later she’s tensing with the waves of her orgasm.

Lexa uses her fingers to help Clarke come down as she kisses her way back up her body. She knows her face is shiny with Clarke, but that does not deter either of them when Lexa licks into Clarke’s mouth for a long kiss.

She grins against Clarke’s lips when she feels Clarke start to buck against her fingers.

“Again?”

“Yes.”

It’s after Clarke’s third orgasm and Lexa’s second, that they finally bunk down for the night.

Lexa retrieves their shirts and Clarke’s underwear, so they will at least look semi-decent in the morning. After they dress, Clarke leans into Lexa until they hit the bunk. Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke and relishes in the feeling of their bodies pressed together.

“So,” Clarke whispers, “don’t let this go to your head, but that was amazing.”

“Well, I _am_ a rockstar now, so.”

“That is true.”

They share a nervous laugh. Then Clarke looks at Lexa carefully.

“Is it okay that we did that?”

“What do you mean?”

Clarke laces her fingers with Lexa, still, after all this time, knowing what Lexa needs to feel grounded.

“You are important to me and I feel like I am relearning you, I guess?”

“I feel that way too.” Lexa brushes the hair out of Clarke’s face. “You are still you, but you’re different.”

Clarke smiles, leaning over to kiss Lexa’s cheek.

“It’s because I want to get this right this time.”

Lexa’s heart warms at Clarke’s words, but she still needs a little more.

“What does that mean though? Getting it right?”

Clarke shrugs. “I don’t really know.” She pauses for a moment before tentatively adding, “So maybe we shouldn’t have sex again, until I do.”

Objectively, Lexa knows it’s the right decision, but it still hurts. It still feels like Clarke is shrugging her off. Telling her to wait. She nods in agreement anyway because there is not much else she can do.

Clarke seems to sense this though because she brings Lexa’s knuckles to her lips and kisses them. “This is different, I promise you.”

“Can I…can I still hold you tonight? Is that okay?”

Clarke nods. “Of course, Lex. Yeah.” She snuggles into Lexa’s chest, and Lexa revels in being able to hold Clarke in her arms—if only for this night.

But when she feels Clarke press a kiss to her collarbone, Lexa has to remind herself that this isn’t like the other stolen moments. This is different, like Clarke said. This happened and Clarke isn’t going to run to Bellamy or Raven this time.

Still, it takes a little longer for Lexa to fall asleep. She can’t help wondering if she made a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used:
> 
> Oh, It Is Love by Hellogoodbye  
> Say The Things (You Want) by Emery
> 
> As always, hit me up on Tumblr about this!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about this at nataliving.tumblr.com.


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